Step By Step
by starlight2005
Summary: How can two individuals start on the same path, then part ways, only to find themselves falling into the same road again after all those years? SK/YY AU
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: The story is divided into four, possibly five, 'books', each containing five chapters. It is meant to be slow and I hope everybody understands. It's AU, so none of those AE arc and canon stuff. But I intend and I am trying to keep the characterization of Seto and Yami familiar. I hope it doesn't disappoint. Much-understatement of the year- thanks to Jolly and barrie18, whose insights have allowed me to improve on my draft. I honestly wouldn't post it if it weren't for them. Feedback is highly appreciated. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

**Book I**

**Beginnings**

_Nothing appears out of thin air. In the real world, magic doesn't exist. Objects don't spontaneously combust. And neighbours don't automatically become the best of friends. We call this progression. All relationships, whether they are platonic or romantic, are built on trust and faith. This is the first step of Seto and Yami's 'progression': Friendship. _

**Chapter 1: Meetings**

He heard it first, the sniffling, before he noticed the slight moving behind the bushes of the abandoned construction yard. And somehow, even without looking, he _knew _it was the same boy he's seen the day before. Parting the bushes, he moved without hesitance towards the boy, who didn't seem to notice him until he placed a hand on the other boy's shoulder.

"They're gone."

He didn't expect the other boy to respond, really. The other boy must have been embarrassed, Seto thought. But the way the other boy simply stared at him, blank of emotions or thoughts, unnerved him. No one looked at him like that before. No one pushed the burden of proving honesty _to _him. It made him feel like he was obliged to show that he wasn't one of _them._

"I sent them away," Seto said consolingly. Reconciliatory, even. As if he really had the burden, and he found that he didn't mind—not when the boy, who had the deepest albeit tear-filled red eyes he's ever seen, sighed and turned around.

"Please leave me alone."

Seto had to strain to hear those words whispered, and hushed the tone might be, the implication was loud and clear. Boys were proud, frustrating creatures and they didn't admit to the weaknesses they had. The boy was not embarrassed. He was mortified... and was thinking about something. _Reflecting _must be the right term and Seto was already impeding on that. But he glanced at the afternoon sky littered with storm clouds, knew for a fact that it didn't mean well. He thought the boy, whose name he still hadn't bothered to get, deserved the peace this seemingly hidden corner of the construction yard offered but not at the expense of being exposed to the inevitable heavy rainfall. (Besides, they were neighbours and neighbours looked out for each other!)

"It's not safe here," Seto answered calmly like he knew better, which he felt he did. It must not have been the right attitude to bear, though, because the previously sullen boy now stood up, righteous anger burning brightly in the eyes that Seto had come to adore.

"I said leave me alone! Leave me alone!"

Seto's mother used to tell him, when she was still healthy and beautiful with her perpetually pinkish cheeks and fair complexion, that he was a stubborn young man. Apparently he wasn't alone in the world. But he was certain he was the more stubborn of the both of them and he stood his ground. He knew when he was right... and this time he was right! To make sure, he closed the distance so they were just an inch from each other. He was trying to project just how tall he was; make him look more foreboding.

"It's going to rain. If you get caught in it, you'll get sick. Wouldn't your mother be sad about that?" _That _was emotional blackmail. His cousin taught him that. He was a fast learner. He held out his hand, a gesture of friendship... maybe peace. "I'm Seto Kaiba."

The distrust in the other boy's eyes was palpable and he looked at the outreached hand disdainfully. As if somehow Seto had offended the whole world by being friendly. And just when Seto thought it was a lost cause – why he was helping in the first place, he had no idea but he guessed even _he _experienced bouts of insanity – the boy grasped it and shook it firmly, like fathers would instruct their sons to do. Wouldn't want others to have a bad impression of them, would they? Churlishly, the boy answered, "I'm Yami."

'Yami' was the boy Seto saw in the moving truck several days ago. He was the one who carried a box bigger than himself into the house, and the one who woke a younger look-alike who slept in the car. Yami was the one who hugged the nice lady of the house before running inside to do something Seto never learned about. And it was Yami who went to the construction yard today right after a strange man entered their house to perhaps talk to Yami's mother – or at least Seto assumed her to be his mother. He ran right before the loud noises started in the house. Seto's seen them because he was in their own backyard and he didn't like what he was hearing. There were words his mother said never to repeat and a lot of shouting. His parents never shouted. And they never used bad words either.

Seto had thought, when he ran after his neighbor, that maybe they could be friends. The other kids in the neighborhood were idiots—dunderheads who didn't know left from right, who couldn't construct grammatically-correct sentences even if their lives depended on it. But he's heard Yami—has heard him talk to his younger brother, to his mother. Has seen him play on his own and read without guidance. He was intelligent, Seto had thought. And when he saw Yami being pushed around, no word of protest from him coming out, only the dimming of his once-bright eyes, Seto thought that Yami—intelligent that he might be—might actually be alone and lonely.

"I live next door to you," Seto said, attempting to break the awkward silence that reigned upon them. Yami refused to look at him. In fact, his attention was directed at the clouds that literally hung above them—clouds so dark and blackish gray that it gave Seto a sense of foreboding. As if aside from raining hard, something bad was going to happen. And he didn't want to be caught in that. "Well, come on! We'll go to your house."

"I don't invite people to my house," Yami deflected, shutting him out just as soon as he met him. "I don't invite people who aren't my friends."

For some reason, Yami equated friendship to trustworthiness. Seto got the message instantly.

"Let's be friends then."

As if it was as simple as that. As if Yami, who was wary of him, who shunned him and refused to be seen crying over the pain and bruises he's sustained, would just fall for that. Seto was an idiot sometimes—not as stupid as the other kids but he was still an idiot. Yeah, sure, 'let's be friends', he thought sourly. Like that's going to happen. Yami didn't want to, it seemed. Until Yami, who didn't hear his self-depreciative remarks, nodded his head and sent a small smile to him. (That one, he caught and he found himself returning it.)

"Fine. But I'm not easy."

"I don't expect you to be."

Seto Kaiba was eleven years old when he met his evasive, quiet ten-year old and a half neighbor, Yami Mutou. It wasn't the most likely of places, and it wasn't how you traditionally befriend your neighbours. But Seto realized one day that he and Yami were not cut out for tradition and all those uptight, petty things anyway. They were so much better than that.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Seto found out that Yami's mother gave birth to him when she was 19 years old. Just about fresh out of high school and deeply in love with her then-boyfriend that she thought having Yami would be the best gift she and her 'wonderful' boyfriend ever had. But the man had a different opinion and chose left when Yami's mother wanted to go right. It happened every day, Seto knew, to nameless, faceless people he didn't bother to care about. People abandoning each other, he meant. Yet they normally didn't matter to him, and therefore he didn't need to know them. Yami told him this when they were camping in Seto's backyard. Seto found himself caring.

It was the fifth day of summer break and Yami was going to be enrolled in the same year and class Seto was. But school was months away and at that moment the stars had stopped hiding from the traitorous veil of clouds, twinkling as if they were winking on the two boys lying on the grass. Yami was pensive, until he spoke up and talked about the wonderful lady who gave Seto chocolate chip cookies.

"I hate him," Yami hissed with as much hatred as a ten-year old could muster.

"Who?" Because for a moment Seto's mind had wandered and temporarily forgotten that they were talking about Yami's mother.

"The man who left my mom. I hate him. If I see him, I'll do the worst thing I can think of."

Honestly, a ten-year old thought differently. While a teenager could spill out the words 'kill' and 'him', string both into a wonderful, powerfully emotional sentence, a ten-year old boy who's seen his mother get hurt by the other boyfriends she's had could really just think of pulling a prank that although won't kill anyone, would be severe enough to leave the poor victim with broken bones. At least. Sometimes Seto thought Yami was dangerous, and he was glad he was friends with him. Great _dangerous_ people had to stick together, you know.

"Has he ever visited you?" Seto found himself asking. It didn't make a difference. Then again, he was curious and even if his mother kept telling him about the cats who die because of curiosity... he, well, he wasn't a cat and he was really just innately curious about things that were relevant to his life. Besides how could Yami hate someone he's never met? That would be like hating Santa Claus for not appearing when he didn't exist in the first place.

Yami was quiet for a moment before he sighed.

"He went to our house on my birthday but never before that. And never again."

Yami must be reliving the time he saw his biological father for the first and last time. He knew Yami, though— knew him even though they've only been friends for a couple of days. Yami wasn't happy to see his father. To him, his father was dead. His father hurt his mother so deeply that Seto swore Yami could feel it. Sometimes when he managed to steal a glimpse at his friend's mother, he would see the sorrow there. He assumed it to be sorrow because his mother never had that. She was sad sometimes ... but sorrow was graver than that. It was like a black hole that his Science teacher used to talk about. The ones that suck planets and other heavenly bodies in, regardless of how big or small they were. If Seto had been in Yami's shoes, he wouldn't just think of hating the man. He'd have cursed him using all the foul words he's heard and been told not to repeat, and thought of the man rotting in the hell of the eternal burning kind.

"Well... you don't need him. You're stronger than him. Handsomer too," Seto consoled. He heard his grandmother say that word – handsomer – when his grandmother was still alive and he was still five years old. It must have been a magic word of sorts because he saw Yami smiling in that soft, patronizing way. Yami'd smile like that every time Seto'd intentionally do something ridiculous to cheer him up.

Often times Seto would think about making Yami laugh, not smile. Making Yami smile was easy. He's never heard or seen his friend laugh though and although he wasn't one for laughing – he thought the ones who did were hyenas— he knew it was still good to laugh.

"Hey Seto?" Yami said after he yawned. His eyes were already half-closed and he had moved closer to the brunet. Seto figured Yami was cold. He was thinner than him and he refused to stay under the blanket for some reason, and for that Seto wordlessly wrapped his arm around Yami and pulled him closer.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad we're friends."

What Yami was thinking to lead him to that conclusion, Seto didn't bother to figure out. For the record, Seto was glad they were, too. He never managed to say that, however, for when he looked down and swept Yami's yellow-gold bangs to the side, he saw that his friend had already fallen asleep.

With nothing else to distract him, Seto started to get sleepy as well. And he was already on the way to the place where dreams were better than reality when he felt his father's shadow. His father had just come home, obviously, and the man was also obviously tired. But he was smiling, his blue eyes rich with a fondness that he normally reserved for Seto's mother. Seto's father was always working; always in the city, employed in a big company that didn't give him as much free time as Seto would want him to have. Yet he always went home and always greeted his son a good night. Made sure he was tucked safely in bed, with the warm blankets over him to protect him from the cold. Seto wasn't sickly, and had once gotten annoyed at the protectiveness of his father. Like most living creatures, however, humans – and most specifically, Seto – were conditioned to adjust and he had gotten used to his father's protective, albeit smothering, ways.

"Your mother tells me you've met a new friend," was his father's way of saying _'I'm glad you're getting along with someone in the neighbourhood finally.'_ His father was even looking at Yami when he said that, before he met his son's eyes. "She tells me he's our neighbour."

"He is. And he's the coolest person I've ever met. The other kids are stupid," Seto huffed. Yami had shivered and burrowed closer. "They were hurting him when I saw him first. I wanted to run after them but they weren't worth my time."

"I'm sure you're going to be a politician someday, son," his father dryly said. And Seto grinned. He loved his father's wry humour. It made him feel unlike a child who didn't know any better. It made him feel like he was his father's equal. "I'll be sure to vote for you though, I promise."

"That's not yet doable until a couple of years, Dad. Really, are you that happy in getting rid of me already?" Seto quipped before his father chuckled and ruffled his hair fondly.

"Well, you are a pain when you choose to be."

"But Dad, isn't that why you love me so much?"

His father only laughed and kissed him on the forehead.

"How an eleven-year old can respond tete-a-tete like that, I have no idea. Good night, Seto."

Seto smiled and snuggled closer to his friend. The blanket was over the both of them and his father had closed the flap of the tent. Good night indeed.

This was in June.

-o-o-o-o-o-

On the last week of June, Seto met Yugi Mutou for the first time. It was Yami's fault, really, because apparently Yami didn't tell him they would have to babysit his younger brother until his mother came home from work. It was summer break after all, so there was nothing wrong in doing that. A lot of kids surely took care of their younger siblings, especially when the adults were busy with work. Seto honesty didn't mind. But making Yami a bit guilty about simply dropping things like 'responsibility' and 'have-to's' was a price his friend had to pay. Seto didn't like being surprised. Even if Yugi was as adorable as younger brothers often were.

"What are you doing?" Yugi asked. Yugi was four and a half years old. He looked almost like his older brother, except that he had the gentlest violet eyes that Seto's never seen before. He was also a whole lot nicer than Yami, truthfully. But Yami was more interesting, so there's the breakeven, he guessed. Right now, 'what he was doing' was he was colouring the page of robots Yugi had given him. Seto recognized the robots to be the Transformers ones he's seen on TV recently. Maybe Yugi had potential in being cool after all.

"I'm colouring this robot black," Seto answered. He didn't know where Yami was, and his friend was supposed to be back by now. He better be because Seto wasn't geared to entertain younger kids anyway. Way too impatient, or rough. Yugi's eyes widened comically as if he's done something bad against the universe.

"You-you can't do that, Seto!"

"Why not? It's my page. I can colour it any way I want to," he muttered.

"Seto, that's Bumblebee!"

"Yeah, so? It's still my page."

"Bumblebee's—" Yugi didn't know the name of the colour he was referring to obviously. He was, however, resourceful and snatched the yellow crayon, "—this colour and the one you're holding. Not just all of that!"

"Says you. If I want Bumblebee to be black, I can make him black. It's still my page, Yugi," Seto responded. Like his mother's said, he was very stubborn. Emphasis on very.

"Are you honestly arguing with a four-year old? Seriously, Seto?"

Yami was amused.

Seto mock-glared before giving up. He gave Yugi back the page before meeting his friend's gaze. Yami was carrying a grocery bag which contained ingredients for cooking and some stuff Seto didn't pay attention to. They haven't had lunch yet. Was that what Yami was going to do? Make lunch?

"I didn't know you can cook," he pointed out. Yami nodded.

"I don't. Mother left me the list of ingredients she'll need later."

"But—" that didn't make sense. How were they going to eat? He was hungry.

Then Yami grinned. And Seto felt like an idiot again.

"You were messing with me!"

And there, that rich, light-hearted sound. That was the sound of Yami's laugh, and despite feeling slightly betrayed for being the joke this time around, Seto had to grin proudly. He did that. Even though it was at his expense, he thought belatedly.

"I'm glad to have served as your clown then," he said, pouting as he stared at Yugi who was concentrating on his colouring that he didn't notice the banter between the older boys. Yami wasn't going to let him go that easily, though, for he had walked towards him and offered him a bar of chocolate. Seto was suspicious. He felt like Yami was bribing him with chocolate, taking advantage of the universal truth that was Seto's sweet tooth.

"I'm sorry. I bought you this, though. I really didn't intend to make fun of you. You're my friend," Yami apologized. Seto internally thought his neighbour didn't have to bother with saying them out loud. "If it's any consolation, we're actually not going to cook. We're going to grill some hamburgers."

"But we don't have hamburger patties..." Seto eyed him warily, like one would a clown who had his hands in his pockets, "... do we?"

Yami grinned. Immediately Seto felt a sense of foreboding.

"Be right back," the other boy said happily. His grin, no matter how 'trustworthy' Yami claimed himself to be, was conspicuously evil and Seto wasn't going to believe his friend didn't have a diabolical plan in his mind.

Yami went to the kitchen, carrying the groceries. There were a lot of rummaging to be heard, as well as opening and closing of refrigerator and cabinet doors. For a minute, Seto had considered lowering his guard down a notch, thinking Yami wasn't feeling particularly villainous that day, until Yami came out with a tray of—_Was that raw ground meat? _

"Yami?"

"Yeah?"

"What the hell is _that_?" His voice didn't break. He didn't squeak. The slightly high-pitched sound didn't come from him, and even if it did, it still wasn't a squeak. But was that their food? Where were the hamburgers? What was going on?

Yami laughed and shooed a curious Yugi away. Made him take the colouring book and the crayons to the living room while he and "Seto prepare lunch, okay?"

While the younger Mutou obediently followed his brother's orders and ran to the next room, Seto quite visibly winced and stared at him with a blatantly helpless look. Which Yami laughed at. That prat.

"It's meat, Seto. Completely and utterly powerless meat, if you may as well know," Yami said. He was amused, Seto could see at least and he scowled even more. Yami snorted at his attempt, unfazed, as he went to the sink to wash his hands—apparently a deliberate attempt at ignoring Seto's mulish behaviour. "Of course you're bound to realize that the raw meat which you're actually staring disgustedly at the moment is still our lunch."

Seto hesitated, torn between helping out and suggesting ordering pizza instead, before he looked up. This was not going to be good.

"I don't know what to do with that," he confessed, his eyes falling on the tray of meat. Were they supposed to use gloves to touch that thing? Were they even supposed to touch it in the first place?

"Seto, you idiot. Of course I'll teach you. And yes, before you ask out loud, we need to touch it so we can mould it into patties. Now come on."

This was what Seto Kaiba remembered of the entire affair: the sticky feel of meat in his hands, his grimace and Yami's voice dropping one note as he knowingly instructed Seto in the proper making of patties, Seto's own desire to make them perfectly just so he could gloat after, and the smug satisfaction of actually seeing the by-product after their efforts. It was the pride in Yami's eyes and the unending amusement as he winced and concentrated on his task, as if the meat was akin to solving Math problems. When he finally grilled what they have made, his first try... Seto would never forget that, too.

While Yami prepared the rest of their meal, Seto went back inside, the sweet Yami gave him in his pocket. He saw Yugi on the carpet, on his stomach and drawing something Seto couldn't name. Instead of distracting the obviously busy boy, Seto tapped Yugi. Yugi looked up.

"Want some? Your brother bought it," Seto offered. He figured he must be nice to Yami's younger brother. He was very protective of him, he thought. Yugi glanced at Yami, who finally went in as well, first, shyly asking for permission and at Yami's curt nod, nodded as well. With a smirk, Seto cut the bar of chocolate in three, giving a block to Yugi and offering the other one to Yami – who didn't seem to be expecting that because he was staring at it. Seto laughed. "It's just chocolate. It's not going to eat you. You're supposed to be the one doing the eating."

Yami stuck his tongue out before accepting it, a heartfelt thanks leaving his lips as soon as he had the sweet in his own hands.

Several minutes later, lunch was prepared and Yami and Seto were seated with Yugi at the dinner table. The hamburgers were in front of them and although they weren't completely char-free, because Yami smugly announced that he could make better ones right before saying he was still going to eat Seto's first ever cooked meal, Seto still felt his pride soar.

As if in mock anxiety, Yami nibbled on his share and met Seto's eyes, smiling. He made a play of chewing it rather exaggeratingly, before downing it with water. Seto didn't know why he waited for Yami's comment. He already knew it wasn't the best. He didn't need patronizing. And with that thought, a frown appeared on his face. Which Yami noticed because he shook his head and laughed lightly.

"It's not the best, but it's the best you can make considering it's your first. I'm glad you grilled them today, Seto," Yami earnestly said. He didn't meet Seto's eyes but he was eating his share. That said something.

Seto guessed with that gesture, he would have to forgive Yami (again). He found he didn't mind. Yami was fun and funny in his own weird way. But there was no way–absolutely not! –that Yami was going to get away that easily.

"The things I do for you!" Seto remarked.

Somehow his statement felt like it meant a lot more than food.

-o-o-o-o-o-

They were playing in his backyard when they heard adults arguing from Yami's house. Yami had looked up, eyes dimming a bit with a realization of what was going on, before sighing, as if he was accustomed to it. Seto quieted, waiting for the other boy to say something. To quip about the inanities of being an adult, or something similar. But when it didn't come, he grew worried.

"Will your mother be okay?" He asked, catching Yami's attention. A mild success considering how distracted Yami was lately. Yami took his time in answering, as if weighing his options, before nodding ever so slightly.

"She always is."

Maybe it was what Yami knew Seto wanted to hear. Maybe Yami was merely accustomed to lying and pretending things were better off as he played them to be. For whatever reason, Seto was unnerved when three days later they saw the man that usually stayed in Yami's house leave, suitcase in hand and a snarl on his face. Yami's mother had changed after that.

Yami refused to talk about it. Seto didn't dare bring the topic up.

-o-o-o-o-o-

In September, five days before classes began, an old man knocked on Yami's front door. Yugi, who was lying on the carpet on his stomach and drawing with Seto, immediately shouted in glee and ran for the door. Yami's brother was a ball of constant action. Sometimes he'd do nothing but run in circles until the world spun and make him collapse on his feet. Yami would neutralize the energy with paper and crayons, grinning smugly every time his brother would (expectedly) run towards him to grab it. Yugi liked to draw, as much as he liked watching Transformers on TV, and as much as he liked the sweets Seto would sneakily give him. But Seto noticed, as Yami got out of the kitchen and answered the front door, that Yugi also liked the elderly man who was waiting outside.

"GRANDPA!"

For a four-year old, it was difficult to comprehend why you don't see the people you love every day. Why they had to go away, or why they couldn't be with you all the time. It was difficult to notice the aging process and how they fell for its charm; how they couldn't simply be as fast as you are. But for a toddler, seeing the people you don't see every day was a novelty that never fades. It was a lot like opening presents on Christmas morning, the lack of knowledge about what the gifts were driving the sleepiness away.

Yugi, Seto realized, didn't see his grandfather every day. And apparently their grandfather didn't see them just as much, as well.

"Hello, my dear boy. Why, you've grown!"

Grandpa had hair like Yami's and Yugi's, only greyer and definitely lacking other shades of colour that were characteristic of the brothers. He was just a couple of inches taller than Seto, and he had a mischievous in him that was evident in his eyes. He met Seto's gaze and curtly nodded in recognition—it was his gesture of saying hello—before his eyes alighted on his older grandson.

"Yami, come greet your grandfather," Grandpa beckoned.

"Have you had a safe trip, Grandpa?" Yami asked, wrapping his arms around the older man. "Mom didn't tell me you were visiting. This is Seto, by the way. He's my friend."

"Is he now?" The elderly man looked at him, as if calculating his worth. And Seto didn't feel insulted, or ashamed. He wasn't going to feel awkward just because of that – it made him feel proud that he was Yami's friend.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," Seto greeted cordially. But whatever semblance of formality Seto tried to portray was quashed as soon as Grandpa Mutou, in his characteristic lack of understanding of personal space, pulled him into an embrace as well.

Actions spoke louder than words, and it seemed to Seto that he just had passed some initiation. Seeing Yami's smile beyond Grandpa's shoulder was worth it, however, and that was that.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

**Kinship **

Three months into the school year, Seto Kaiba learned the fine art of silence. He hasn't mastered it yet—far from it, actually—but he was getting there one day at a time. Or at least that's what he wanted to think. It wasn't all that difficult. Now, he wasn't abnormally talkative, or annoyingly chatty. He wasn't redundant, and he wasn't one to give motherhood statements, which he loathed himself. He was inquisitive, however, and brutally frank. He had opinions after all and people needed to hear them so they could do something about themselves. There didn't seem to be a problem with his scathing remarks and attitude, until Yami got into trouble for it.

It wasn't Yami's fault that the other students were behaving like a bunch of pea-brained thugs, bullying younger kids around and strutting like rejected ballerinas all over the playground. As if they owned it. Seto had huffed. And it wasn't Yami's fault that Seto decided to speak his mind and that he was hit then shoved for his efforts. Yami was only morally obliged to defend his friend. But Yami took the blame anyway. Told him to "shut up, Seto" before accepting detention. Seto, aside from the fact that he felt really horrible for it, eventually realizing while he was waiting for detention to end that he really had to stop being responsible for bad things happening to his best friend.

Hence, his unnatural vow of silence.

The 'vow of silence' was pretty simple, despite being casuistic and therefore not total silence-ish. The vow allowed him to talk to important people, like Yami and their respective parents-and-or-guardians. But it restricted him from talking to anybody else, even his school teachers. It had been a cause of great concern for their teachers, who went to class and found an uncharacteristically silent Seto Kaiba staring at them and impatiently waiting for them to start. Yami had eventually—maybe he got tired of watching their teachers squirm, Seto mused—explained to them the 'vow of silence' and made them realize it was one of those phases socially stunted geniuses like Seto get stuck with. So things dwindled down after that, and everything went back to normal. Including playground politics, unfortunately.

It was tiring to watch, Seto thought one day over lunch, and sighed.

"You shouldn't let them bother you so much. You already know they're idiots. The more they can rankle you, the likelier that they'll actually do that," Yami advised sagely over a bottle of orange juice and a half-eaten tuna sandwich. They had decided to stay away from the concrete jungle, staying behind the bleachers instead, hidden from everybody else. It was one of the best ideas they've came up with. Seto looked at him before nodding. Yami had a point. But—

"How can you not care?" Seto asked.

Yami shrugged, eyes fixed at the brick walls of the school building.

"I just don't think they matter... if they don't matter, then what they do also don't matter. So there's not much impact on me, I suppose," Yami explained. He wasn't talking about the bullies anymore. That faraway look and wistful tone that Seto easily recognized were symptoms that pointed to Yami's unspoken past. They didn't talk about it that much, the past. Yami blatantly refused to bring it up, and Seto wisely avoided it altogether. Sometimes he'd think Yami's past to be too painful for everyday conversation, if only to justify how it became a taboo topic that it has become. But he also knew Yami—and he knew that Yami kept even the most mundane things a secret. In truth, most of the time Seto didn't know why they didn't talk about the things that they didn't talk about. And he didn't push Yami while Yami kept his mouth shut. It was a mutually beneficial agreement and for so long, it seemed to be a convenient one. For their efforts, Yami had become more open to Seto and quite naturally Seto was pleased about it. But there were some ideas that they didn't easily agree with, and this was one of those.

"What if they do _that _to Yugi? When he finally goes to school, I mean, and we won't be there to protect him? What if everyone didn't care if he gets hurt?"

Yami didn't immediately answer and Seto had begun to think that it would be one of those taboo things again until Yami met his eyes and smiled.

"I can see that. The point you're trying to make, I mean. And I wouldn't like that to happen to Yugi at all. But at this moment, Yugi isn't going to school and I don't want either of us getting into unwanted trouble, getting hurt or getting detention," his crimson-eyed friend conceded. Tenderly, Yami touched the fading bruise on Seto's jaw line and winced, before he looked up at Seto. "You have to admit. Where the boy punched you, it had hurt. It still does, right?"

There wasn't anything uncommon in the closeness between them, Seto thought, and he nodded, whispering a quick 'yeah' to Yami's question.

"That's why we have to choose our battles. We can't fight them all the time."

Then the bell rang and suddenly lunch time was over. Seto felt marginally better at the compromise and stood up. Until his eyes widened and the jigsaw puzzles in his mind clicked into place. He eyed Yami crossly.

"Hey! You got that from the movie we were watching last week!"

"I know. I understood it, unlike you," Yami cheekily quipped, smiling ever so smugly that Seto wanted to douse him with cold water just for the heck of it. His friend must have caught on the idea because before Seto knew it, Yami had already made a run for the school building, his laughter clear and loud. Seto couldn't help but laugh as well before running after him. He had a grin on his face and a plan at the back of his mind.

"Yeah, you better run!"

-o-o-o-o-o-

At eleven years old, girls had cooties, the other boys were stupid and the place behind the bleachers was the best hideout in the world. Seto couldn't count the number of times he's stayed at Yami's house, or the number of times Yami was in his. They were partners-in-crime, he and Yami, and Seto felt very protective of his friend. (Sometimes to said friend's consternation, but it was a necessary risk, Seto felt.) Being the good friends that they were, they had spent almost every waking hour with each other. Thick as thieves, Grandpa Mutou had often said, and often alone. They hadn't made new friends, which worried the adults but they were nine and they had all the time in the world to enjoy it. Back then, being best friends was easy to pull off.

One year later, when he turned 12, though, Seto found the situation to be a bit more complicated.

Grandpa Mutou had decided to stay with Yami and his family after Yami's mother kicked her boyfriend out. And because Grandpa wanted to help, he opened a game shop, which meant Yami had to lend a hand a lot. Seto would have pitched in and things would have been back to the usual if his mother hadn't requested him to take extra lessons in piano after classes. This left him with barely enough time to hang out with his best friend and it made him utterly miserable.

"It's okay. Things'll get better one day," Yami had said in an attempt to comfort him as they ate their ice cream and watched over Yugi. Seto had stared at him then and thought if it was the truth. Yami would never lie to him, though, and he would never sugarcoat things, no matter how bad things were.

"Easy for you to say. I only see you in class," Seto had answered stubbornly. "I hate piano lessons."

"Well... think about it this way, once you finish you can gloat and boast to me your excellent piano-playing skill. I promise to be jealous. Or at least pretend to be," Yami responded, smiling. Seto felt the twitch in his mouth; knew that it would turn into a smile and he fought it. No, he wasn't going to be comforted about it. Yami had to prod. Just had to be annoyingly insistent about it. "You know I'm right. Just smile already, Seto."

Seto had stuck his tongue out instead and scowled. Which, if he remembered, amused Yami.

At the memory, Seto smiled and sighed heavily. He hasn't seen Yami outside school for several days now, and he was already taking piano lessons for a month. It irritated him. Apparently, it distracted him as well because someone snapped their fingers in front of him and he started.

"Seto, are you well?" his piano teacher asked. She must be frustrated with him. They haven't been improving lately, and he kept making mistakes. It was as if his fingers deliberately bound themselves into knots. And his brain wasn't particularly cooperative, too; shutting down when he needed it to read the notes before him. Seto shook his head. This was ridiculous.

"I'm sorry," he answered.

His teacher used to be a music teacher in the high school nearby. She married her boyfriend at thirty-five, though, and had stopped working. Things hadn't been good to her ever since she miscarried and she had resorted to teaching again as a form of therapy. Maybe to forget about what happened, Seto reasoned. Her gaze fell on him and he swallowed, wondering what she was seeing. Was she seeing how bored he was? How his mistakes and inability to play the notes he read on the music sheet well made him miserable?

"How about we take a break? Just for ten minutes, mind you. You can go outside if you want," she said pleasantly, indicating the slightly opened door. "I'll be here when you come back."

Seto stood up and nodded curtly, "Yes, sensei."

She was disappointed. Seto could see it clearly in her eyes. He was, as well, when he stole a glance at his neighbor's house and found it was closed. Yami wasn't home yet, and he forlornly sat on the pavement instead, watching cars pass by. A group of small kids ran towards his left, playing with their kites and hula hoops, enjoying the remnants of daylight before the sunset. He missed his friend. What was Yami doing? What did it feel like to be surrounded with games and cards? What time would they close the shop this time?

When Seto's vision blacked and stayed as such, his hands went up to his eyes and found them to be covered. His mouth curled into a smirk. Yami's hands were ice-cold. They were more slender than his, and had more calluses. He felt the scar left behind by Yami's accident with the kitchen knife weeks ago, and squeezed gently. Yami chuckled behind him as he grasped Yami's wrists.

"Honestly, Yami."

Seto's mood brightened drastically at Yami's barely restrained laughter. Yami didn't even see his eye roll! Yami removed his hands and sat beside him, grinning rakishly.

"If I didn't know better, I would have elbowed you in the gut and you'd be gasping in pain," Seto chided. He didn't want anyone to touch him without his knowledge. Well, anyone but Yami and the people that mattered. And he didn't want his best friend to fall victim to those impulses of his.

"Of course you would. But you do know better, and I can sleep at night because of that," Yami teased.

Seto laughed and pulled him into an embrace.

"I haven't seen you in a long time! What's been happening to you?"

His best friend shrugged nonchalantly.

"I miss you too, Seto."

"Prat."

"How are your lessons?"

The sight of subtle but disappointed eyes flashed in Seto's mind and just like that, his mood fell drastically. Seto sighed, knowing he had caught Yami's attention. There were questions forming in his friend's mind already, he knew, and he wasn't all that interested in answering them. Not yet, anyway. When he felt Yami's stare, he turned away.

"I don't want to talk about it," he pre-empted, glaring at Yami. It wasn't out of anger. It was a warning to not push it, though, and it seemed Yami wasn't one for threats because he maintained his proximity, touching his shoulder lightly.

"I'm sure you're just distracted," Yami said in an effort to placate him. It was no use. There was no response for that, so Seto decided to stay silent, his head bowed and his thoughts loud. He didn't know what to say, actually, and he couldn't help but frown at his predicament. "Seto?"

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Oh sure. Peachy. I'm great," he muttered sarcastically.

Seto expected a sarcastic and equally-good comeback from the other boy. They were used to the endless banter and didn't just back down that when Yami merely shook his head, gazing at him with soft, understanding eyes, Seto was surprised. And quite annoyed, for some reason. It reminded him of his piano teacher. Of his mother who'd surely be disappointed in him as well. He didn't want that but playing the piano was hard and he kept making mistakes every time.

"Would you like me to watch?" Yami asked, his voice breaking through Seto's wall of depressing thoughts so quickly that the only response Seto came up with was a blank stare. Understanding the reason behind Yami's offer was a complex task. He had to understand Yami's mood first, for instance, or what he was doing before that before he could get the flow of thought. And Yami was fidgeting now, which confused him more.

"Do you want to?" Seto finally said.

"Do you want me to?" Yami threw back.

"If you promise not to laugh."

Seto's words were wary. His eyes cried of suspicion. But he – he was nervous. Caught between wanting Yami to watch him play and not wanting him to be there in case he did mess up. However, his friend had his mind up that instant and nodded.

"I promise I won't laugh," Yami vowed seriously.

"Okay."

It didn't look like a bad idea.

Seto Kaiba's hands were light and slightly shaking on top of the keys of the piano. The notes of Catch A Falling Star still didn't make all that much sense to him at first glance and he knew that Yami sat beside his teacher, waiting. Yami caught his eyes and smiled reassuringly, as if through it he said "You can do it". And Seto thought maybe he could as he closed his eyes. He remembered the song in his head, identified the tunes of piano keys in the song and felt them to be vaguely familiar. For the first time, as he opened his eyes and gazed at the music sheet, his mind was blank and he was calm.

So Seto played.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"How was it?"

Yami briefly looked scandalized – like asking him was a terrible offense. Seto instinctively backed away.

"I thought you said you were horrible!"

Seto flushed before he understood the words, and his eyes widened comically that had it been another time, Yami surely would've laughed.

"I wasn't?"

He made mistakes, he knew. Several of them, in fact, that he was wincing throughout his playing. But Yami was shaking his head and chuckling lightly.

"No, you weren't." Then Yami smirked, eyes glowing with mischief, "You're fishing for compliments, aren't you?"

If it were any possible, Seto reddened more and fidgeted before feeling defensive.

"No, I'm not! Really, though? I wasn't?"

Yami made a face before sighing theatrically. He had closed his eyes to add to the effect before opening one and peeking at Seto. Seto grinned.

"Yes, Seto. You weren't. Stop grinning! I knew it! You _are_ fishing for compliments!"

Seto hugged him instead of answering. It wasn't true anyway. Yami didn't habitually compliment people and when he did, he normally felt uncomfortable about it. It had something to do with not knowing how the person he complimented would react. And it didn't take Yami telling him for him to figure that one out because he could relate.

"Thank you, Yami," he said earnestly.

It was a while before his friend whispered, "Anytime, Seto".

It didn't matter. Seto felt good already.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Friday that week, they were back at Seto's freshly-mowed lawn. Their tent was set up, Seto's mom baked them a fresh batch of cookies and there were no clouds in the sky. They initially feared bad weather upon hearing the day's forecast on TV but it didn't seem to be true so they went ahead with it. While Yami's mom and his dad were still at work, his mom and Grandpa Mutou were amenable to a sleepover in his house anyway. But at 9 o'clock in the evening, neither Seto nor Yami was even close to being sleepy.

"Those stars look a lot like a dragon, don't you think?" Yami pointed.

"No, more of a snake with wings. See? Those are the wings. I don't see any limb," Seto insisted.

"You have no imagination," his friend huffed.

"Hey!"

"It's the truth. I don't like lying, after all. It's bad," Yami explained. At Seto's unrelenting glare, he gave in. "Fine. But it's weird. A snake? With wings? Snakes don't have wings!"

Seto rolled his eyes. Who didn't have an imagination now?

"Don't you ever get tired of insulting me?"

Yami smirked and shook his head. "They aren't true and you know it. It's just your ego that's telling you you're being insulted by me."

"But I don't insult you."

Seto felt himself pouting and he grimaced. He didn't pout!

"Thanks for that," Yami replied and in a quieter voice added, "I'm afraid of you insulting me."

"What?"

"You heard me. Don't make me repeat it. Please."

"Why? You know I'll rarely mean it. Why would I intentionally hurt you?"

"Because other people do. I guess it just follows that you'll do, too. And what if you do eventually mean it? When you insult me, I mean."

They were lying on the grass, underneath a blanket of bright, twinkling stars and Seto rose, leaning on an elbow as he peered into the other boy's eyes. As far as he was concerned, the night sky held no appeal as of the moment, Yami's words running in his mind. Self-consciously, Yami glanced away and remained silent. Maybe regretting saying what he said, Seto thought. He refused to have that. Wasn't he Yami's friend? Last he checked, friends didn't do that to each other. It was ridiculous!

"I promise, I'll never mean it. You have to remember that, though. I'll never mean it. Ever. Besides, what use will that be if I hurt my best friend? That's like hurting myself, and that'll be the stupidest thing I've ever do."

"You don't know that. What if we fight?"

"Then we fight. We'll punch each other and wrestle around. Maybe get dirty and slip in the mud. I'll let you win and you'll think you won without my help, and then Mom will bake cookies. The end," Seto responded quickly, shrugging at Yami's incredulous stare. No matter if he wasn't exactly the 'fist and fight' kind, but Yami didn't need to know that.

"Seriously now, Seto!"

Seto sighed.

"Honestly, Yami. You've got to learn to trust me. I know I'm stupid sometimes but I'm not that stupid. I trust you. Isn't that worth something at least?"

"A penny."

"Now who's not being serious?"

"Okay, okay. It means a lot. Really," Yami declared. "It means a lot more than anything in the world."

"Good."

Feeling the discussion to be over, Seto went back to lying down and watched the sky before nudging Yami and pointing at a distance.

"Look Yami! The North Star!"

He knew that when he turned away for a minute, Yami smiled, and he secretly smiled back.

It was all about trust.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thanks, Jolly and dragonlady222 for the feedback. I wanted to wait for Christmas but I figured it would be a busy day for most, including me, so this is my gift for Jolly who's been really supportive. Happy Christmas! **

**Chapter 3**

**Outsider**

Seto's father brought him fishing once. He remembered the lake—unknown depths, several kilometers from town, that one. The place was so quiet that it was very possible to drop a coin and hear it hit the ground. His father described it as serene and Seto found it utterly boring. They were planning on camping nearby, as well, his father having decided it was to be a way to bond with each other. Had to establish the father-son ties and all that, apparently. But Seto was still seven years old then, see, and he was deathly afraid of the water. And it just so happened that while his father walked back to the car to get something, he stepped on his fishing rod's case and slipped, falling head first into the freezing water. Suddenly all those swimming lessons made sense and he grappled, floundered and struggled in the water, shouting for help and crying in relief when he was pulled to safety. He had shivered on impulse, but he had trembled so violently. It wasn't because of the cold. God, he shook like a leaf, terrified at the memory of choking on so much water. At the memory of his throat burning, and the cold piercing his skin that when he got out, he felt he was scrubbed raw.

Seto Kaiba remembered having nightmares about the lake for almost a year until he woke up one day and decided to bear the fear, if not completely recover from it. The experience had taught him much about life-threatening situations, and he could identify through the mad rush of adrenaline in his body and the steady rising of panic in his chest that he was in danger. In such situations, it was easier to follow instincts and do anything to survive.

He felt that now as he struggled, fought and shouted.

"Get off! Get off!"

By nature, Seto didn't deal with things physically. He felt that's what brains were for—to be cunning, to avoid what wasn't needed. To be smart enough to remove himself from sticky situations. He threw ridiculous amounts of tantrums to get what he wanted, glared at people to back off and insulted kids he didn't want to deal with, fine. But he didn't kick sand into anyone's eyes, throw stones at unsuspecting individuals or punched anyone who didn't deserve it. Doing so made his hands literally and figuratively dirty, made him callous and almost barbaric, he'd always think. However, the urge to be violent now was strong. It ran in his veins like water bursting from an overfilled dam as he bucked and punched blindly any part of his attacker's anatomy. Around them, he heard jeers thrown at him. Calls of 'wimp' and other derogatory names he loathed hearing.

They had found him alone under the bleachers, manic grins on their pug-like faces. And Seto could have run away, yet he didn't. He fought them when they pushed him to the ground. It was only _natural_ , of course, for them to be the thugs that they were and subdue him many to one. To work in groups because they were too cowardly to deal with their problems on their own. Such failures, they were. They had hit him on various parts of the upper abdomen—his chest, his jaw, even his arms as they pinned him to the ground. Although it hurt, Seto was glad that Yami wasn't there. It wouldn't have been good if his best friend saw this.

Only, he was wrong and Yami had found him. Yami, who just for a few minutes went back to the building, shouted his name and saw what was going on. He was going to get caught in this mess again, Seto was sure and if he hadn't been hurt, he'd have groaned aloud. There was an unspoken warning in the stare he sent Yami. Even a request to _stay the hell out of it_. But Yami was furious, swaggering towards them and promising trouble. Seto was certain his friend was going to deliver such promise and he shook his head. Delivering such promises _always _had a price.

"No, stay out of this! Yami! I'm warning you!"

Maybe it was his seemingly helpless position, or the impact of the punches inflicted on him that made Seto not as threatening as he wanted to be. But he should have, at least, expected Yami to be stubborn and not listen. Because in this case, Yami was the epitome of stubbornness when he didn't have to be. The knowledge scared the hell out of Seto. They knew Yami—not only as Seto's friend, but also the boy who fought back last year. The one who got away. And they could easily get back on him and Seto wouldn't be able to do anything.

Yami was as foreboding as foreboding could get. He fought like he was used to use his fists to defend himself. And no matter how valiant it might look, they were unfortunately losing. Seto's eyes widened as Yami went down, having suffered from a kick on the shin and some punches in the chest. Seto tried to sit up in alarm and when he couldn't—still restrained, see—he shouted.

It was his luck that some of the boys were distracted and he managed to pull himself free, running towards his friend. But his luck was somewhat still limited as he felt two boys grab his arms, forcing him to stand as another boy sneered and punched him squarely on the stomach. Seto doubled over, gasping as the hit knocked his breath out. He winced, tears reflexively forming in his eyes. He couldn't voice out anything. It was difficult and he thought that this was exactly why he didn't do things physically. Seto didn't see Yami since then, his mind having blocked out everything but the pain in his lower abdomen and the near impossibility of breathing properly. He didn't remember blacking out, but he flinched and started when someone eventually pulled him back.

Seto could deduce, at least, that the fight was horrible, and blinked, his eyes immediately searching for Yami. When he found his friend, he closed his eyes briefly. Yami looked horrible.

"You okay?" His friend had asked. Seto nodded, his gaze never straying from Yami, whose face was already swelling. Yami held his right hand close to his chest as if it hurt—it probably did—and was leaning on Seto for support. If it was a conscious effort on Yami's part, Seto didn't know but he wrapped an arm protectively around Yami's shoulder anyway. He didn't dare comment on Yami's hair, it was beyond messy, and his torn clothes. Surely their teachers would faint at the sight. But what just happened? As much as he believed in his friend, it was ridiculous to think that Yami, who was even shorter and thinner than him, could fight off six boys on his own. (Unless he was a spy or a ninja, Seto's traitorous brain said.)

"Seto?" The other boy asked, demanding his attention subtly.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"What happened? How did you—?"

Someone coughed in a deliberate attempt to break the conversation and consequently attract attention. Seto bristled, his eyes narrowing on a boy with wild, cotton-white hair. He had brown eyes, almost ordinary if not for the dangerous glint Seto saw in them. His grin was wide, close to smug and crazy, and Seto found that he didn't like the boy at all.

"The teachers are on their way," the boy said, darting a glance at Yami. Seto eyed them suspiciously, disliking the abnormal interest he saw in the other boy. He could be dangerous all he wanted but Yami was Seto's best friend and Seto wasn't going to just let anyone else be Yami's best friend. The boy caught his stare and met it, gaze leveled and snorted. "Well, I've to go. Let's not get into trouble we can't handle, eh? Bye!"

Good, go away, Seto thought.

"Wait!" Yami called.

_What? _

The boy looked at Yami and his offered hand, not knowing what to do with it. Uncivilized, Seto described him.

"What is it?"

"Thanks."

"Sure... no problem."

Seto watched as his best friend stared at the boy who jogged back to the building. Mildly, Seto wished for the boy to trip on an unseen root or hit the door, but neither happened and he felt his mood turning sour. Unnerved, Seto nudged Yami with his elbow.

"That hurt, you know," Yami remarked.

"This has to stop."

Yami stared at him warily, obviously not liking the direction of their conversation but handling it anyway.

"What's 'this' exactly?"

"This!" Getting hurt because of me, Seto wanted to say. Getting into trouble that I started, he wanted to add. "Please don't get into fights anymore."

"I didn't start it!" Yami answered defensively and displeased, and Seto sighed, ignoring the scowl Yami threw at him. "You were hurt, Seto. You can't expect me to just stand back after that."

Seto knew that. Would have done the same thing, he admitted. But that wasn't the point. The point was... Yami protected him at his own welfare's expense. It had to stop—especially if things would end up this way, with them both injured and left to anybody else's mercy.

"I can't get you into trouble all the time, Yami, and you have to stop getting into it willingly."

Yami quite predictably shook his head, much to Seto's annoyance.

"What do you expect me to do? Leave you there while they beat you up? That's stupid and you know it."

"You think I wanted this to happen? You think I just...I _wanted_ them to see me and get myself beaten into a bloody pulp?"

"That's not what I was saying. Stop being stubborn. We both know you didn't invite them to hurt you. It still doesn't change the fact that you got hurt and nobody was going to help you out but me," Yami retorted. At Seto's silence, Yami closed the distance and hugged him tightly, despite their injuries. "Believe me, I'd have turned around if it were anybody else. But I couldn't, not when it was you, Seto. You're my best friend. I can't let anything happen to you."

As if it had a switch, Seto's anger dissipated and he sighed in defeat, returning the hug. The teachers, when they found the two, gasped in horror. Seto would have laughed, honestly. He didn't expect being seeing that way to be _that _shocking. These things happened to students all the time, considering the bullies' constant presence in the playground and the school's inaction towards these things. Shouldn't the shock wear down by now? Yami elbowed him.

"Ow!"

"Be nice," Yami whispered, knowing exactly what he was thinking about and he raised an eyebrow.

"Why should I?" Seto answered back, watching the teachers fuss over Yami first.

"Because we're the good guys, remember?" Yami replied, apparently not caring if the teachers heard their conversation. Besides, Seto thought, they couldn't do anything about it anyway.

"Fine."

"Quiet, you, and let them examine you."

They were sent home after a trip to the clinic and another one to the Principal's office, excused from classes and advised to stay home for a week. The look on his mother's face made Seto felt guilty. He didn't want seeing her that way, but when he glanced at Yami's house and realized Yami was all alone, he frowned. Yami didn't deserve to be alone there, not when he was hurt and not when he couldn't move without even stifling a cry of pain.

"Mom, can I ask Yami to come over? He's hurt too and Grandpa Mutou and Yugi aren't there so..."

His mother ruffled his hair lovingly before nodding. Seto grinned and went to his neighbor. On the first knock, Yami answered and Seto had him grabbing the house keys and some clothes, and locking the house as Seto dragged him to his own house. They were given chocolate chip cookies and stayed in Seto's room. When Yami fell asleep, betraying the exhaustion he so clearly felt, Seto's mind raced. The incident wasn't the first and it wasn't the last. The sneers on the bullies' faces were the last expression Seto's seen before he was punched and he vowed revenge. Seto was smart for a reason and with mind made up, he asked his mother for the phone. The images of Yami falling and himself being treated so roughly by those bullies ran in his mind as he dialed his father's office phone's number. He would have them expelled, and he wasn't going to expect anything less.

When they returned to school one week later, feeling better and stronger, six students were kicked out from their school. They'd committed various major offenses, Seto heard and when he saw them, he found himself smirking proudly. There were tears on their ugly faces, dirt on their knees and misery on every part of their bodies. Yami met Seto's eyes questioningly and he nodded in affirmation. I told my dad, his eyes confessed, and Dad hadn't been happy. The expelled students cleared out their lockers and the school bell, perfect timing as always, rang. Time for class. No more bullies.

Good riddance.

At thirteen, Seto found he could control what happened in the school if he played his cards right. He found that the rules, which were created to protect them and meant to be objective and fair, could be used to his and Yami's advantage—and it was the best weapon Seto ever had. This was a fitting welcome—the realization and the kicked out bullies—to a new school year.

"We should go to class," Yami reminded, pulling his shirt at the direction of their classroom.

Seto grinned.

"Lead the way."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Since the students were expelled, Seto decided the new school year would be the best so far. He expected classes to be exceptionally peaceful, and lunchtime to be relatively safer. The monkey bars and the slide would never be perfectly safe from idiots who thought they were superheroes, after all. He entered Homeroom with a grin on his face and Yami beside him. Their seats were at the back of the class-still center and close enough for them to hear their teachers, but there was a division between them and the other students. It was evident in the empty seats beside theirs. Homeroom usually started five minutes before the bell and lasted for about ten minutes. Seto eagerly went to his seat, glancing at Yami who fondly shook his head and followed suit, bag slung on his shoulder and a grin making its way on his face. This was going to be a good day, Seto knew it.

"Your recital's in a month, right?" Was Yami's attempt at light conversation. They were, however, clearly sleepy, having stayed up till the wee hours of the morning in Seto's room. Yami snuck in when it was past Seto's bedtime and snuck out before Seto's father checked on him this morning. And they were paying for it already. Seto wanted to fold his arms and sleep Homeroom away. But Yami's question was still valid and he found himself nodding silently. Since last year, Seto was steadily improving, much to his teacher's happiness. She was so elated at his development, in fact, that she included him in this year's recital. (The recital, his teacher told him during the summer, is meant for students of mine who have done good in their levels.) Seto being proud of his achievement was an understatement.

Yami poked him.

"What?" Seto asked.

"What are you performing? For the recital, mind you."

"Ah. Well..."

His friend gaped. Seto almost laughed at the indescribable expression on Yami's face before blushing, remembering exactly why he couldn't answer. He wanted Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. It was a bit complicated for one of his level, though, his teacher had said, and he was stubborn. Very. But he also honestly didn't know if he could do it.

"You haven't found a piece yet!"

"Yes, I have!"

"What is it then?"

Seto crossed his arms and sighed. He and Yami heard it on TV several months ago, in one of the episodes of a show they were watching. It had a sense of mystery in it. Reminded them awfully of the night and gazing at the skies. It had, for some reason, moved them and whenever Seto would hear it, he would think of Yami. Seto's mother also loved it. She said so over dinner, when they were talking about musical pieces that he could play. He had to perform Moonlight Sonata. Anything else was not permissible.

"Seto!"

"Yes!"

"Stop avoiding me. And stop zoning out, too."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Right. So, what are you performing?"

"It's a surprise," Seto chuckled. He wasn't going to tell Yami, of course. It'd ruin everything. Besides Yami sulking all morning today was something he learned to handle. It was Yami's attempt at emotional blackmail, but Seto thought it wasn't nearly as effective when Seto wanted something done. "I'm serious. It's difficult, though."

Moonlight Sonata was the popular name of Beethoven's Sonata No. 14. Seto did his research. He wasn't kidding when he admitted to its difficulty. It had three movements and he was still practicing the first one, the Adagio sostuneto. He remembered having to stay up later than anyone else in rehearsals, just so he could play without stop or distractions. Remembered his teacher's words. _Softly_, Seto_, _she said when she wanted it played quietly. _Press the keys harder_, she'd say after when it was time for the mezzo forte. Seto was frustrated throughout the entire session. And yet, when he did finish the first movement with not so many mistakes, he had beamed at his piano teacher and went home with a smile on his face that the rain could not take away. He had a month—and he felt like he could actually do this, after all.

At his response, Yami laughed.

"I know you can do it. In any case, I can't go with you today. Grandpa wants me to do some errands for him and I don't think I can finish them early enough so I can catch you," Yami said, looking greatly apologetic.

"That's okay," Seto admitted. Yami hadn't made it to the past few rehearsals, too, and Seto found he didn't mind. It made keeping the surprise easier than Seto expected. Besides, these were errands that Yami had to do. He understood the urgency and importance of it. Yami had responsibilities he couldn't pass on to anyone, and even though Seto wished Yami didn't have to do all the things that he did, he knew there was nothing that he could do to change the situation anyway. Except to accept that there were times when his best friend wouldn't be able to hang out with him. "Are you going to my house tomorrow?"

Yami shook his head, his guilt apparent on his face. Seto didn't even have to look at his eyes anymore, in tuned already to his friend's body language. He knew what was up when Yami didn't meet his stare. When he looked down, or away, refusing to talk about what was bothering him. It was only embarrassment or guilt—and Seto was absolutely certain there was nothing embarrassing with why Yami couldn't go tomorrow.

"Those errands are going to take a few days, Seto," Yami hastily explained when Seto made him look at him.

"It's fine, really. But Saturday?"

"I'll be there. I promise."

"Good!"

Yami nodded.

The class visibly started when the door opened.

"Good morning, class!"

At the chipper, familiar tone, Seto raised an eyebrow. Their Homeroom adviser entered the classroom with a beam on her face and Seto thought it wasn't appealing at all. She was stealthy, he'd give her that, but only because she wasn't supposed to be here five minutes earlier than she was supposed to. Meaning, she managed to surprise them and that was all. Nothing particularly special there—however, this was Mrs. Robinson, who taught Math and was very predictable. Seto's mother used to tell him not to intrude into other people's lives so much; to stop staring. But Mrs. Robinson was different. He didn't even have to stare at all. Didn't have to scrutinize her actions because her entire life was based on ages-old, unbreakable routine. She wore various shades of green on Mondays, other monochromatic colors from Tuesdays to Thursdays and floral, frilly blouses on Fridays. She wrote on the right side of the blackboard and when it was filled up, moved to the left. But most importantly, she dismissed the class five minutes before the time and went to class _exactly ten minutes before the bell_.

So Seto had the right to be suspicious when she broke the routine, and he wanted to know why. Nobody broke routine without probably cause; the same way nobody broke school rules without a pretty good reason (except if you were one of the small few who did break the school rules to cause havoc and get expelled as a result). Seto glanced at Yami and frowned at the thoughtful look on his friend's face. He knew this look. Has seen it enough times to know that Yami was trying to piece two and two together. Yami have had this kind of expression often during the summer when they watched movies.

"We've a new classmate," Yami told him when Yami finally noticed him. Seto stared. So the rumor was true, after all. Seto didn't bother believing in it. It was called a rumor for a reason and no one gave a credible source. He was smart enough to know that when there are no credible sources, a rumor would hold little truth. The fact that he was probably wrong now was purely coincidental.

"Who?"

"See for yourself," Yami answered, nodding his head at the direction of the doorway. The teacher was smiling as she led the new student inside, and it was to Seto's utmost surprise to see the boy with the wild, cotton-white hair. Seto's eyes widened. Instinctively, he turned to Yami, expecting this to be a joke. As if understanding the silent question, Yami shrugged and met his gaze. He didn't know it was him, either.

See, the school seldom receives new students. It was almost a policy now, one that everybody had no problem with. There was another school downtown for late enrollees and they could come back after the school year. The 'policy' had wanted to reinforce the school's opinion on meeting deadlines. But whenever there actually were new students, people quite predictably fawned over them for a while, their curiosity getting the better of them. It sickened Seto, watching everyone be idiots. And to his relief, normally people went back to their usual apathy. Seto wondered if it were the same for this boy. Said boy felt his stare and met it, smirking proudly. Flabbergasted, Seto stood up.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded, his eyes narrowing with accusation. Seto scowled and crossed his arms. From his right, he heard Yami call his name softly, asking him to sit down but for once, Seto didn't listen. When the boy laughed and moved towards him, Seto fought the urge to move back, as if his body remembered that this was the boy who helped them several days ago. (Conclusion? The boy was dangerous, his body must be thinking.) He wasn't going to give this boy the satisfaction of intimidating him, though, and Seto held his ground.

Before things could escalate, Yami rose and glared at the other boy. Probably warning him, Seto thought. Yami's grip on Seto's arm was firm and whether it was to reassure him that Yami had his back or to actually still him from doing anything, Seto didn't manage to know because the teacher finally decided to interfere.

"Bakura, would you like to introduce yourself to class? I'm sure everyone would love to know you better," Mrs. Robinson, ever the pacifist Seto believed her to be, sounded pathetic in her attempt to break the draw between him and the new student. The boy had a name after all. Mrs. Robinson's smile was fake, Seto found and he almost laughed as Bakura scoffed.

"No. I don't think so," Bakura drawled in an effort of blatant disrespect. He walked towards the empty seat to Yami's right.

"You're not allowed to sit there," Seto pointed out, his tone sounding more like an order than anything else. He disliked the boy. Something about him couldn't be trusted. He was dangerous and infuriating. He didn't deal with authority well and he tries to project an aura of coolness when he really isn't. Seto wasn't going to sit near him at all— and he wouldn't subject Yami to the same thing. "You're not allowed to sit in this row."

Bakura laughed and dropped his bag.

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"And who are you supposed to be?" Bakura challenged.

They were facing each other and although this was the boy who maybe fought the bullies when he and Yami were hurt, Seto wasn't afraid of him. He was angry and he thought that Bakura was getting pissed, too. He didn't waver and it wasn't out of sheer stubbornness or pride. Seto didn't like how Bakura eyed them and sneered at them. He didn't like how they were going to be near him. Yami hissed a warning at Seto, who decided to ignore him again. Yami once told him to choose battles wisely and this was one of those 'wise' ones.

"Someone you don't deserve to know," Seto replied, his mouth curling into a leer, which he supposed would annoy Bakura.

Bakura eventually got over it and tsk-ed, shaking his head afterwards and muttering words Seto didn't hear. Then Yami was forcibly dragging him back to his seat and making him sit down. Seto honestly expected his friend to be furious but only saw exasperation and concern on Yami's face when he looked up. Bakura, on the other hand, had probably decided he didn't want the seat next to Yami because he went around and dropped his bag on the seat beside Seto's. If it wasn't for Yami's warning, Seto would've squawked and started another disruption. Seto proceeded with glaring at the boy instead. If glares could kill...

With classroom violence avoided, the tension faded slightly and Seto simply went to ignoring his new seatmate instead. He'd wasted enough time. And he didn't want to get detention, which would ruin his plans. It was counter-productive and it'd mean less time with Yami. There was honest relief in Mrs. Robinson's face as she started making some announcements, albeit in a less cheerful tone. As far as Seto knew, Mrs. Robinson didn't like these things happening at all. Wasn't his fault though. Bakura was unwelcomed. Yami tapped his shoulder and gave him a note.

_You okay?_ The note read.

Yami was looking at him and he nodded. They'd talk as soon as morning classes were over. They could discuss things there. He made a gesture of returning the note, only for Yami to shake his head and pointed at the other side of the note. Apparently there was another message.

_I know you want to kick his desk. Don't. It's underhanded and not you. _

No matter how angry he was at Bakura, Seto couldn't deny that he found himself smiling a bit at that. He grinned at his best friend and kept the note in his pocket.

Underhanded, indeed.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Two weeks before the recital (and consequently two weeks into the new school year), Seto's piano teacher started asking him to go to rehearsals earlier than everybody else. Had something to do with her wanting him to practice his piece more; have him performing it as flawlessly as possible on the day of the recital. It would be a momentous experience, she told him. The only way to achieve that, however, was to be there before anyone got to using the grand piano. It would require him missing his afternoon classes and making up for them after the recital was done. It meant fewer time with Yami, Seto realized, and doubled school work when he got back. But ultimately it was his decision to make and considering just how much he wanted to see the looks on Yami's and his parents' faces when he played it, the consequences were worth it. Any kind of performance which wasn't his best was unacceptable, especially this.

Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy to convince Yami, who worried about Seto's obsessive 'work ethic'. Seto had repeatedly scoffed at that. Finally, Yami gave in though and they were just talking about it the same way they talked about other things, like the stars they saw at night.

"I understand," Yami said. It was already lunch time and Seto leaned comfortably on Yami's back. They didn't have to see each other's faces to have a decent conversation-not anymore, at least.

Of course, when Seto thought about it, the only regrettable drawback to his additional practice hours was Yami's unavailability. Grandpa Mutou had gotten the flu a few days ago and hadn't finished fixing and accounting for the new shipments. The task naturally fell on Yami's shoulders, making it nearly impossible for him to promise to be there for Seto all the time.

" Why don't you sound okay with it?" Seto asked because he caught it. The displeasure in Yami's clipped tone, he meant. It wasn't blatant, but it was noticeable enough if you knew how Yami's voice sounded. So to Seto it was obvious. As obvious-maybe even more-than Yami's cold formality in his 'I understand'. Yami was never formal with Seto and now that he was, Seto wondered if he was doing the right thing by agreeing to the practices.

"I am."

Seto snorted.

"Fine, I'm slightly not. Slightly, Seto. Not completely not okay with it. It's just that... it'll be different without you here in the afternoons," Yami admitted. It was in the afternoon that school got interesting. It was in the afternoon when the most boring and the most interesting subjects were. It took Yami more effort to confess Seto that, and Seto reacted by turning around and meeting his gaze. They had always shared each other's jokes, notes and opinions about everything that happened during the afternoon. With Seto being away for two weeks, Yami'd have to keep his thoughts to himself, Seto realized. But more than that, he'd be alone.

Maybe Seto didn't need those extra practice hours?

The thing about Yami was that he knew Seto as much as Seto knew his friend. And almost as soon as Seto thought of backing out from his piano teacher's plan, Yami shook his head, his guilt palpable.

"Don't. I'll be fine, I promise," Yami insisted, grinning at him sheepishly. But Seto wasn't convinced. Yami was quiet when the other students were nearby. He didn't talk to them, and it was in the natural order of things for them to avoid him in return. They, however, looked at him when he didn't notice. Seto'd see them and silently warn them to back off. But you can glare as much as you want, and you still can't change people's minds, Seto knew. They found him odd. (Well, of course he and Yami were different. They were better, after all. Not the point, though.) Seto didn't trust them a lot. He figured he never would.

"You don't talk to our classmates," Seto pointed out.

"Neither do you," Yami quipped.

Seto sighed.

" Listen. It's just for two weeks and you'll still be attending morning classes anyway. So I'll be alright. Honest. You can even glare them to death, I won't chide you. It'll traumatize them forever," Yami joked, winking playfully at him. If Yami meant it to assuage Seto's concerns, it succeeded slightly. It didn't change Seto's mind, however. That had Yami sobering up. "Your recital's in two weeks, Seto. You'll need the practice. That's more important."

"Yami, I can always practice at home." More important? There was no such thing as more important, Seto thought sourly. He was glad when it didn't show in his face.

"No, you won't."

"How'd you know?"

"I know, Seto. You never practice after dinner."

"But-"

Perhaps Yami finally decided to give up and gave in to his frustration. Maybe it was something else. For whatever reason, Yami placed his hands on each of Seto's shoulders and exhaled. His eyes were stern, but his facial expression was smooth. Calm.

"You need the practice. I know you're not going to play Catch a Falling Star. It's too simple to keep you interested. I promise I'll visit you when I can. But you have to stop worrying about me too much, okay?" Yami's voice was soft, intending for the words to gently tell Seto off, without needlessly being scathing or hurtful. Seto admired that. Knew that to be Yami's intention and he found himself nodding. Then his best friend grinned and ruffled his hair.

Seto mock-glared. Yami only laughed.

"Good."

"You better visit."

"Of course."

"Good."

"Just so you know, I'm a very difficult person to please, Mr. Kaiba. More difficult than Yugi," Yami smirked, revealing a bar of chocolate and handing it to him. He loved doing that, giving Seto chocolate. Seto hadn't figured out why and he found he didn't need to know at the moment. He did roll his eyes though and smiled. He'd have to do everything to please Yami then. With mind made up, Seto broke the bar in two and gave Yami the other half, as he normally did. Yami received it gladly and they waited for lunch break to end in comfortable silence.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So, how was your new year? Hope it was good. I enjoyed mine. I wanted to have this done in time for the new year, as welcome to 2011. But it wasn't exactly very cooperative and I had to delay the update. But thank you for the feedback for Ch3. They've proven to be quite helpful, and they did cheer me up. Here's Chapter 4. I hope you'll like it. Do tell me what you think after, okay? **

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**Chapter 4**

**Importance**

_Two may talk together under the same roof for many years, yet never really meet; and two others at first speech are old friends. - Mary Catherwood_

With the preparations for the recital underway, Seto Kaiba looked forward to each passing day with nervous excitement. Music surrounded him, as was pressure to perform well. He was getting better, he knew, upon seeing the tangible proof of his progress—there's been a decreasing number of mistakes recently, and it was encouraging him to improve at a faster rate. Sometimes, when Seto thought about it, it takes seeing development rather than relying on word of mouth and other means that may not exist or be true. In any case, Seto's teacher was impressed and immensely pleased by his progress, and has without fail attended to his practices with the strictness of a school teacher and the pride of a mentor.

How the others fared was a different story, however. For some reason, the others didn't feel the same as Seto did, which was a shame, Seto thought. Most buckled under the pressure—for a variety of reasons, as always—and digressed into amateurs who pounded the keys without care. The rest, Seto figured, probably did their best and when they found themselves still as worse as they were, decided to stop caring altogether. They played with such apathy that Seto couldn't decide which was worse: listening to them or to those who gave up.

Seto told Yami that one day. Had been mulling about the insincere lack of effort coming from everyone else, and he was certainly frustrated by it.

"You can only be disappointed so much, Seto," Yami had answered, wearing that far-away look Seto occasionally saw. Sometimes, Seto wanted nothing else but to demand the complete story of Yami's past. He was 13, he would understand, wouldn't he? But Yami respected his moods and his impatience with people who didn't even try to be good. And Seto respected his friend's silence. So they had ended their conversation there and never brought it up again.

The thing was, music, as Seto found, was more than just a perfectly-construed combination of scales and notes. It took more than knowing the tempo and remembering when it was to fall to a flat, or raise a pitch, to create and perform music. It took knowing who the music was for, who was going to listen. That's why people interpreted music differently, because to them there were individual meanings. And every time Seto played, his fingers getting familiar with the keys and himself re-discovering every note, he thought of what he had given up in order to perform Moonlight Sonata on the day of his recital. He still felt the guilt of leaving Yami alone in the afternoons, and he wanted to make up badly for that. He wanted his performance to be as perfect as possible, if only to show Yami that he'd not have done it if it weren't for something they appreciated.

Sometimes, Seto failed. He'd think about the piece too hard, want to be faultless too much. Sometimes the frustration would get to him and he'd run to the comfort room to hide, angry and miserable. But other times, Seto prospered. Most of the time, Seto looked forward to rehearsals and the surprise that met him afterwards.

Yami visited him as often as he could in the week that passed, never getting there early enough to catch him playing to Seto's relief. However, without fail, when Yami was there, they would go home together as if they hadn't spent the entire afternoons apart. Seto's mother had marvelled at it, greeting them with a smile every time and clearly very pleased. Unfortunately, this wasn't one of the days he could expect Yami to be there. He had things to do; errands to finish.

"I'm sorry, Seto," he had muttered apologetically this morning. They were the only ones in the classroom. They were always early. It was to avoid annoying people, Seto used to reason. Since then, he stopped caring why they were always the first ones. After all, regardless of reason, the classroom was quiet and things were relatively peaceful.

"It's okay," he had replied because it wasn't Yami's fault. It wasn't as if Yami didn't want to go. But there were things beyond his and Yami's control; Seto knew that.

Rehearsals were going well. His timing was near impeccable and he still had to learn how to play smoothly, but that was finer details which he could worry about later on. Finding his teacher to be gone, Seto glanced at the time. Rehearsals ended at 7:30 PM, fifteen minutes from now, he thought. If it weren't for their mismatched schedules, Yami would probably be waiting outside already, doing God knows what. It wasn't that he was unaccustomed to going home alone. But having someone with you while you commute on the way home was a better option—one that Seto predictable preferred.

When his music teacher returned, she looked nonplussed and agitated over something. Seto wondered what was going on, but she must have ignored his stare for she offered no explanations. Not that Seto was entitled to them... it didn't stop him from wanting to know why, though. He stopped playing, knowing the abrupt halt would catch her attention for sure.

"Is something wrong, Seto?"

Seto shook his head. Nothing was wrong with _him_. It was her who had a problem. That was clear as day.

"Are you alright, teacher?"

"Of course."

She was lying. Her hands shook and she rubbed them together. Although it roused Seto's suspicion, he knew a dismissal when he heard one. He kept his silence, preferring the efficiency of dropping the issue and focusing on the upcoming performance instead. There was little time to smoothen the creases in his performance, and he wanted to go home. The earlier he left, the sooner he could see if Yami was home, as well. His teacher finally decided to push away her problems for a while, Seto observed, as she sat on her chair and gestured for him to continue. With not much thought, Seto faced the piano once more and in three counts, resumed playing.

When he was finally done, Seto went to his things and started fixing them, ready to leave until his teacher laid a hand on his shoulder in a deliberate attempt to talk to him. They didn't talk much, bound only by the relationship a teacher and a student had. As such, a teacher would not be interested in the affairs of her student, and her student would love to leave as quickly as possible, thank you very much. But Seto wasn't annoyed, deciding she had real-life problems to be dealing with already. She smiled at him, a sombre one, Seto noticed, compared to the ones she'd wear every time. However, since he promised to drop it, he did drop it.

"I'm afraid I can't join you tomorrow for rehearsals," she said. What was it with people suddenly becoming unavailable?

"Can I practice at home, then, sensei? You know I don't listen to anyone here anyway," Seto immediately replied. With his teacher gone tomorrow, he'd be left with the apathetic students. The substitute teacher failed miserably at teaching anyone, acting way too nice and lax with the others that Seto wasn't bound to listen to him at all. His teacher knew that and she nodded at his request, albeit reluctantly. She and his mother were in cahoots to get him to be more sociable, Seto mused. With him practising on his own, however, Seto recognized that it was an opportunity for him to visit Yami. So he thanked her and by her leave, exited the room, grinning as soon as the unexpected sight of his best friend greeted him.

"What are you doing here?" Seto asked. Yami shrugged, as if the answer was already obvious. Most likely, Seto thought, but what exactly do you say to someone whom you didn't expect to be there in the first place? Somehow Seto thought 'hi' was lamer. "No really, shouldn't you be doing some errands by now?"

"I've had some help," Yami answered and left it at that. Well, if that were the case...

"Want to get some ice cream?"

Yami chuckled and Seto found it to be contagious. He grinned, noticing his notorious sweet tooth was at play again.

"You're lucky you aren't singing," was Yami's version of saying 'Yes, I would love to'.

At the ice cream parlour, he and Yami exchanged stories. Talked about Yami's apparent boredom in school and Seto's thoughts about his recital. Seto didn't bring up his 'free day', wanting it to be a surprise, while Yami surprisingly told him about his chores in the store. The plan was simple. He'd finish practising early and rush to the game shop in time to catch Yami getting there from class. It'll be like spending the remainder of the afternoon like they used to.

"What are you grinning at?" Yami finally asked, eying him suspiciously. Yami, it seemed, never forgave him for the birthday celebration he planned last year.

"Nothing. So, who helped?" Seto deflected.

"Helped where?" Yami deflected just as well.

"In the shop; you were going to be busy today, weren't you?"

"Ah, the 'help', you mean?"

"Yes. Who was it?"

Yami stared outside of the shop for a minute, looking thoughtful, before meeting his gaze. He smiled and ate his ice cream, as if nothing happened.

"Just some kid who dropped by," he answered.

Even though Seto wanted to press the issue further, Seto didn't. If it was really important and he absolutely needed to know, Yami would always tell him anyway. The unspoken suspicion was there anyway and Yami knew him enough to understand that he had questions in his mind. In spite of that, Seto was pleased that Yami was getting the help Seto sadly couldn't give.

"Okay then," Seto said, changing the topic and talked about their morning classes instead.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Could Time be this incredibly _slow_?

Seto glanced at the clock above the chalkboard for the sixth time, his annoyance spiking as he found that barely five minutes have passed. The teacher had not noticed, droning about the various landmarks in Turkey which Seto honestly could not appreciate. It wasn't like he or anyone in the class, for that matter, was going to Turkey anytime soon. He drummed his fingers on his desk distractedly, knowing he couldn't bother Yami, who was surprisingly paying attention.

Sighing, Seto glanced at the window. Class was taking far too long to end.

Yami tapped him on the shoulder.

"You're fidgeting," Yami pointed out. His brows had furrowed a bit, looking at Seto with concern and Seto stiffened in an attempt to allay Yami's eventual questioning, grinning innocently. It didn't work. "You're waiting for something?"

"Yeah, the sky to fall," Bakura interrupted from Seto's left. Seto rolled his eyes, thinking playing the piano must be a form of anger management somehow. He must be getting better at it, considering he didn't rise to the occasion this time.

"It's rude to interrupt in private conversations," he told his white-haired seatmate before pointedly looking away. Seto caught Yami gesturing for Bakura to stop whatever it was that he was doing, and Seto paused. That was interesting... and weird. Yami let them be when he and Bakura were like this, usually. But at the same time, was Bakura, being the uncivilized, dangerous idiot that he was, going to listen to Yami? Seto glanced at Bakura and gaped at his acquiescence. How did Yami do that?

"What are you looking at, piano boy?" Bakura mocked, scowling as he sat properly for the first time. Was he skulking? Seto shook his head and diverted his attention to Yami instead. His eyes met Yami's, and they unconsciously grinned at each other. It was reflex—almost instinct to respond to each other with grins and smiles, Seto noticed. And he was glad nothing could change that.

"I'm surprised you haven't killed him yet," he told his best friend.

Seto Kaiba was not born to be patient. He did not wait for people who moved incredibly slow, and for people who didn't want to achieve the same things as he did. What was the point? It was a trait that always frustrated his mother so, and yet it was something that immediately set him apart from everybody else. In a way, that was his character and people knew him because of it. So naturally, if he were in Yami's place and left with Bakura as a seatmate, said classmate most likely wouldn't live to see the remainder of the school week end. In fact, he'd probably have strangled the boy right that moment when they first met when Yami didn't intervene.

"You're such a saint," he remarked.

"Not really. I just know how to deal with people," Yami teased as he ruffled Seto's hair.

"Why do you keep messing up my hair?" the exasperated Seto asked. Yami shrugged and leaned back, focusing on their teacher again. This time, Seto caught Bakura's gaze on them and realized though Yami wasn't loud enough to disrupt the class, his voice had been audible enough for Bakura to hear. And Bakura apparently didn't notice the teasing tone as he hmph-ed and muttered a quick 'Whatever'.

Yami's words sounded harsh in an objective point of view, Seto thought. It must have hurt Bakura's ego. (If the idea didn't sound ridiculous enough, Seto would have thought of mocking his classmate... but he wasn't brought up to be needlessly cruel. After all, that would simply waste his time.) What did he care? It wasn't his fault Bakura was eavesdropping, was it?

Suddenly the teacher clapped her hands, her glee palpable as she announced a pop quiz. The class groaned expectedly. Seto, albeit confident that he could manage to pass, wasn't all that pleased either. He just wanted to leave. Apparently that wasn't an easy thing to ask for.

When class _finally _ended, something Seto was grateful for, he approached Yami's desk, gripping his friend's shoulder gently. Yami looked distracted; lost in his thoughts, even, and Seto wondered if he was thinking about those that he didn't talk to Seto about. Seto sighed and dragged a chair to sit on.

"You okay?" He whispered, noticing the furtive glances their quite obvious classmates were throwing their way.

"Yeah," Yami answered, smiling at him reassuringly. He fixed his bags slowly, belying his mood, and Seto's concern grew.

"Really?" Seto just wanted to make sure. He wasn't going home if Yami wasn't going to be alright. Yami never looked this lonely in class. It had something to do with putting up with appearances (and Yami's refusal to let other people see his... moments of vulnerability, so to speak).

Yami chuckled and pushed him away playfully.

"Yes, Seto," he said, grinning. His eyes lightened up as they fell on Seto's childish pout, and he laughed. "Go away. You have rehearsals to go to!"

"Will you be working in the game shop today?" Seto wanted to know, proud of himself for cheering his friend up. Well, he was still feeling indignant about it, but that wasn't such a big deal when he thought about it.

"As always."

"Good luck with the rest of the classes!"

Seto almost said, 'See you later!' until he luckily caught himself and slung his bag on his shoulder, leaving. In his haste, he no longer glanced back to see that Yami watched him sadly.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Seto, dear, would you like some cookies?"

Seto's eyes flew open and he jumped.

"Mom!"

There came a time when children would discover the one thing parents would always care to ignore—privacy. Coupled with secrecy, and used as frequently as humanely possible, children would learn how to frustrate and worry their parents to wits' end. It was almost a natural law, one which Seto believed in. But his mother loved to bake. It was her hobby; one of those small 'blessings in life' that adults talked about. It took her mind away from the painstakingly reality of her sickness, and it made her happy. Therefore, as much as Seto wanted to be angry at her, he couldn't.

"They're fresh," his mother reasoned, smiling lovingly at him. Her eyes were a soft hue of blue—he'd inherited it, his grandparents used to say—and her hair framed her angular face, but she didn't look intimidating as he did. In fact, people admired her, despite her unhealthy pallor and fragile frame.

Seto sighed, giving up. Resignedly, he followed her to the coffee table, sitting in front of her as they quietly ate the snack. The tea was still hot, and so were the cookies. He didn't admit it, but he loved these afternoon snacks. However, with rehearsals, he simply had not the time to treated to them, Seto supposed.

"You haven't stopped playing since you came home, have you, Seto?" His mother asked. It wasn't an attempt to initiate conversation. It was a genuine question, and Seto immediately guessed he knew why his mother was here. "You deserve a break, dear."

"I can't, Mom," Seto answered, shaking his head. "I have to finish this before 3PM. I'm going to the game shop later to help Yami."

"Can't your other friends help him? You need to rest as well, darling."

It was only his mother that could get away with using terms of endearment. But Seto was still the more stubborn of the two of them, and again he shook his head.

"It's just me and Yami. We don't have any other friends," he confessed, not feeling the slightest guilty or ashamed about it. It was a fact, the same as the sun rising in the East and setting in the West. Everybody knew about it, and nobody intended to change that. "He doesn't know I'm coming. It's a surprise."

She could never really convince him to do otherwise once his mind was made up. And that was why she embraced Seto instead, wanting to give him motherly advice but apparently choosing not to.

"Be back before dinner, though," she reminded him as she stood, taking the tray with her. When Seto nodded, feeling like he's won this time, she smiled and left wordlessly, leaving him to his thoughts.

At exactly 3 o'clock, Seto was ready to go. He grabbed his jacket—today was bound to be cold, the weatherman said—and made his way to the Kame Game Shop, which was several kilometres from his house. Seto could already imagine the look on Yami's face when he shows up later. He'd be certainly surprised, and secretly happy. Of course, Seto would receive an admonishment for not telling Yami about this, and a question about whether it was okay to stop rehearsing. However, those were all customary. They'd still follow through with Seto's plan, which involved the ice cream parlour as usual and a trip to the park, anyway.

Upon getting there, Seto found the shop to be closed. There was no sign of anyone inside the establishment, and there was no Yami in sight. Confused, Seto walked around to the back door. Yami really wasn't there yet. He should be, though. The class should have been dismissed by now! He refused to go home, however. (After all, wasn't he exceptionally stubborn? Proud too.) So Seto sat on the curb, throwing pebbles on the other side of the street to while away the time. It must have been ten minutes of him doing the same thing when he heard voices around the corner.

"Who's carrying the boxes this time? Me or you? Coz' I brought an extra shirt, mind you."

It was Bakura and he was amused. Annoyingly talkative, too, Seto thought as he stood up.

"Look, I really don't need your help this time. Honestly. I'm almost done anyway."

Seto would recognize Yami's voice anywhere. And this was Yami. The surprise rendered Seto still, his brain struggling to make sense of what he was hearing. It wasn't _all that bad_, he supposed, but it wasn't believable. Yami and Bakura weren't friends. They didn't help each other out. Did they? Hearing their footsteps draw nearer, Seto moved to action and approached them, eyes widening as his initial suspicions of their identities were confirmed. Yami stared at him in shock, freezing as he did so, while Bakura rolled his eyes, curling his lip in distaste.

"What are you doing here?" Seto demanded of Bakura, hating how easily the boy made him feel defensive. Distaste! What a ridiculous expression. _He _wasn't the one being an inconvenience.

"_I _am helping," Bakura pointed out, smirking knowingly. Those were the right buttons to push, apparently, for Seto immediately moved towards him. Help indeed! For all Seto knew, he was only causing trouble and deliberately at that to delay Yami from going home as early as possible.

"Seto," Yami called, shaking his head as he barricaded himself between the two. "He's telling the truth. He's helping me."

Seto pieced two and two together, and his eyes widened for the second time in just a couple of minutes.

"Just some kid... is Bakura?"

"Wow, good deduction there, Sherlock," Bakura interrupted, grinning maniacally as he purposefully made everything horrible for Seto. Or well... maybe Seto was just plain biased about his opinion about the boy; nevertheless, he was an annoying prat and Seto didn't deal well with annoying prats who joined conversations when they're not supposed to.

"Stay away from this, you uncivilized albino," he warned. Bakura rolled his eyes. Seto turned to him, eyes glinting dangerously.

"Seto!"

"What?"

"Stop being an idiot."

Bakura infuriated Seto in ways no other kid could. He annoyed him greatly, without remorse or hesitation. He eavesdrops on private conversations and when he isn't welcomed, he trespasses anyway. Seto hated him. And made Seto ask questions he didn't want to answer, in spite of his curious nature. For whatever reasons that Seto had yet to discover, Bakura was the nightmare in Seto's life and Seto didn't want to do anything else but get rid of him. Yami intervened before anything could progress, however, and that was how Seto found Bakura being sent away and Yami glaring at him angrily.

Seto realized he had never seen Yami this angry before.

"How could you—"

"What, Seto? Befriend Bakura? Ask him to help me?" Yami cut him off, dragging him inside the game shop. Two arguing 13-year olds were never good to see in the streets. Nosy people always called the police, fearing a fistfight that in most cases didn't even happen.

"Why?" Seto asked. Because he didn't understand. It didn't make sense. Bakura was bothersome. He was clearly dangerous. Seto didn't like him! At his question, Yami stilled and let go, waiting for him to continue. Seto swallowed, his mind was ridiculously hazy, reminding him of times when he'd blank out during a graded recitation. It didn't happen often, but when it did, it was disastrous. "Are you friends?"

Was Yami friends with Bakura more than with Seto now?

As if hearing the real question that Seto didn't voice out, Yami shook his head and sat down, expecting Seto to do the same. It meant Yami wanted to talk. They weren't going to end up having a fistfight—which they never had, mind you. Tiredly, Seto sat opposite of his best friend, waiting for an answer.

"He's not my best friend," Yami said, meeting his eyes. "You are."

Often times, those lines had been enough to assuage Seto's concerns. But Seto found that this time, it was inadequate. For so many times he's heard of it that its over-all impact, so to speak, had been flagged down a couple of notches.

"You didn't tell me you needed help," Seto accused. Friends who trusted each other didn't hesitate to ask for a hand. That was because real friends would lend it easily, without complaints or questions. "I would have been here as much as I could."

"No, you wouldn't," Yami said. His shoulders drooped and his eyes were shadowed with an exhaustion that even a tired Seto didn't express. If this was one of those backlashes of Yami's past, Seto wouldn't know. Seto wished for a time when it wouldn't appear, though. It's been showing up lately. "You're preparing for your recital. Why in the world would I want you to skip that for this?"

"Because _you _need help!"

"And _your _recital is more important."

"No it isn't," Seto denied. Yami raised an eyebrow sceptically. "I'd have found a way either way."

Yami moved forward, drawing him in an embrace. Unlike all those that they've shared in the past, this was beyond comfort. This was an apology. A request.

"He's not a bad guy, Seto," Yami insisted.

"He annoys me."

Yami laughed.

"He annoys everyone, including me."

"Why are you friends with him?" Seto asked still. He thought he was the only one who understood Yami. Who knew Yami inside out—well enough to recognize that there were limits that Yami wouldn't cross, things he wouldn't talk about. Bakura couldn't possibly discover these things in such short period of time, could he?

"He understands my past," Yami whispered, for the first time looking down, as if embarrassed by his statement. "He's been through much, and he could relate."

Seto drew back, processing what was told and the shock rendered him speechless. His chest tightened painfully and his thoughts raced.

"You told him?"

"I didn't need to. I don't tell anyone about it, you know that," Yami said.

"Yet he knows!"

The thing about Seto Kaiba was... he had always gotten what he wanted. He had parents who gave him the best that they could offer. His mother loved and nurtured him to the point of spoiling him. She was a constant presence, and his father, a source of wisdom. No one betrayed him, because he never let anyone to, and so Yami's confession hurt. It didn't sound like a betrayal – what did Seto know about that, after all? – but it _hurt_ that someone else knew about the things that Yami didn't even deem Seto deserving to know.

"Seto..." Yami's hand reached out to him and Seto flinched.

"You don't trust me," Seto accused. He needed to leave. He needed to think. He needed to—

"You know I do."

"Not when it matters!"

"Seto—"

"It took me a long time to prove to you that I could be your friend," Seto said, backing from Yami and slowly moving to the door. Yami followed him, refusing to let him leave obviously and Seto wouldn't have that. "You never told me any of your secrets—those that mattered. But he knows. And he's a stranger!"

"Would you just listen?"

"No. You're unfair. I don't want to talk to you anymore," Seto ended, taking advantage of Yami's shock by opening the door and running away. A part of him told him he was being childish. But he decided not to listen. He had tendencies to be irrational, and this one warranted it.

Seto was a fast runner and within minutes he found himself in the old abandoned construction yard. The irony struck him and he chuckled bitterly.

Here he was, he thought, pulling his knees together and burying his head in his arms.

Right where it all started.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So, how's January been for you guys? Just a heads-up, okay? The chapter has been edited only once. I wanted to edit it one more times, but if I'd done that, I'd never get to posting the chapter before January end. I'm sorry. Do tell me what you think, though. I'd appreciate it.

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**Chapter 5**

**Enlightenment**

By the window of his room stood Seto Kaiba, lost in his thoughts. They were in horrible disarray, his thoughts, and having to organize them seemed a troublesome task that Seto decided it was better if he just pushed them away for just the night. He gazed upwards, at the sky, and thought that the universe was feeling cooperative tonight. Nary were a cloud seen. He opened his window and was greeted with cold air washing through him as he focused his attention on the stars. He was fascinated by them, these tiny little twinkling things. They were brightest when they were close to death, his Science teacher said. Perhaps the same thing could be said for human relationships. They seemed good—no, best—before they plunge rock-bottom. (Maybe he was wrong. Seto didn't particularly care.) Nevertheless, he liked looking at the stars, and seeing how beautiful they were to look at right now only emphasized the fact that there was something missing in the picture.

A presence; another individual, who shared sleeping bags under the night sky as they shared whatever ideas they have with each other. Seto was feeling melodramatic all of a sudden. It's only been _hours_ since the entire debacle unfolded, after all. It's all ridiculous in Seto's head. But the reminder of their fall-out had Seto grimacing as he sought Yami's window in the neighbouring house.

The recital was in four days—on a Saturday night, to be exact, to accommodate busy parents' schedules. If Seto looked forward to it, he did so with mixed feelings. He was excited, clearly, and quite proud of himself. A recital was a big deal. You work _hard _for it, and he was glad that his hard work had borne fruit. On the other hand, he knew as well that having a recital without Yami watching was a different, not-so-nice experience altogether. His efforts would have gone to waste. After all, wasn't _he _the reason for Seto's selected piece in the first place? Seto felt ridiculous, hating how torn he was between wanting to perform and showing off what he's achieved, and not performing because what was the point, really?

If things had any semblance of normalcy, Seto knew he would be spending the night in a tent on his own backyard, snickering with Yami and sharing thoughts, dreams and comfortable silence. Seto blew out his frustration, watching hot air fog up a small portion of his window as he threw a glance at his neighbour's house.

It's been a day since their fall-out, and Seto was admittedly undecided between skulking and mulling over what had happened. He had every right to get angry at Yami, he considered. Yami's... betrayal stung! But at the same time, Seto couldn't shrug off the feeling that he also had some fault in the situation, one that he couldn't pinpoint. He wasn't used to that—feeling responsible, even though he knew he shouldn't. In 24 hours, Seto's skipped class and watched Yami leave his house. He'd seen Bakura waiting impatiently on the curb, and Seto had found himself getting irritated by it. Yet, he wouldn't have a problem if he decided to just drop the issue and make up with Yami, right?

They hadn't seen each other since yesterday, not when Seto refused to go out of the house. He didn't even go to his rehearsals today. There was no point. He'd only get distracted, and it would only be counterproductive to his efforts. His music teacher probably didn't mind, considering how distracted she was as well. The thing was, Seto didn't really care. He was hiding. He knew that. And someday, the rational part of him told him, it would have to end. But not now, he didn't want to confront his problem _right now_. He wasn't ready to think beyond Yami apparently preferring Bakura over him.

Sighing, Seto looked away. On the surface level, he found himself being troubled by the fact that the light was never switched on for the entire duration that he was staring at it—the entire evening, that is—and he was worried. It was late and no matter how much he denied it, he still wondered if Yami was safe out at this late hour. Seto couldn't help it. It's in his instincts, this tendency to worry about Yami, and it wouldn't realistically just go away overnight.

At the sound of someone knocking on his door, Seto jumped, clearly not expecting any interruption. His mother knew better than to bother him when he was in one of his moods and would definitely _not _be the one responsible for the sound. Only Yami and his father had the guts to actually bear with him, and seeing how there was no progress with the former, he could only assume—and be confident that he was right—that it was his father.

"Can I come in?" His father asked, peering through the small opening caused when Seto opened the door slightly. His father carried with him a tray of food, certainly his mother's doing. Seto nodded and allowed the older Kaiba to enter. He ignored the observant look on his parent's face.

"You didn't go to class today," his father said. "Is something wrong?"

Seto shook his head. But it's not like he was very convincing at it. So he wasn't surprised when his father didn't buy it. Instead, the older man waited patiently for him to continue, sitting down on the chair as he watched Seto squirm under his stare. He was like that, his dad, Seto meant. No lengthy sermons about the importance of classes, or of telling the truth immediately—ultimately, it was all about what Seto wanted to do, what his decisions were. And these were respected. To an extent.

"Yami and I had a disagreement," Seto admitted after a while, "I didn't want to see him today."

"And this disagreement... what had it been about?"

Just one thing, Seto wanted say. If he wanted to be melodramatic and be the angst-ridden teenager that he often accused others of, he would have added, 'even though it had cost me everything, that one thing'. But he was silent, returning to the window instead of facing his dad. His tale was uttered in soft, neutral tones in an attempt to be objective about it. Sometimes his voice would have a rough sound to it—an edge—and sometimes it would be softer. Seto's never quite practised it, hiding his emotions from his voice, he meant. And he was certain his father noticed it. Objective the narration could be, however, a part of Seto expected to see anger, or something similar, on his father's face. After all, wouldn't a parent be mat the cause of his child's pain? But he also didn't want that, still feeling loyal to his friend even though things weren't going well. Besides, he figured this was his mess and he didn't want adults to intervene.

In spite of his expectation, albeit vindictive, he saw that his father wasn't angry at all. He bobbed his head to indicate that he was listening and he was frowning slightly, as if saddened by the events. But by no means was he angry. In fact, Seto thought, his father even gave off the impression that he was expecting this to happen. Seto was, without a doubt, confused.

"What do you plan to do, then?"

If there was one thing Seto observed and learned from men like his dad, it was that they skipped the emotional aspect of any situation and went straight to the solving part. Once, he'd overheard parents arguing in the living room. It was strange, with his mother wanting to deal with what they felt while his father wanted to know what the plan was when apparently neither of them was in the right mind to give one. It had its detriments, Seto considered, but wanting to solve the problem emphasized the importance of efficiency. Because there were no questions like "How do you feel about it?" or "Are you alright?" Seto was feeling less suffocated. He had no answer to his father's question, though, and he stared at his parent helplessly.

"I don't know," he said. "What should I do?"

"For starts, you should start to respect that Yami has another friend."

"But Dad, I was his friend first!"

"Of course you are. I'm not saying you aren't. You can't be his only friend, though."

"What if I want to? Dad, he's _my _friend. He's my best friend," Seto insisted, feeling protective... was that the right word? "He can't be Bakura's friend."

His father shook his head.

"Yami isn't a toy, Seto. You can't monopolize him. He has a life of his own, and at one point, he would find other people who may share some interests... who'd be interesting to him. Meeting other people who are interesting to him will make him happy. You need to respect that, son."

"I can make him happy, too! Why am I not enough?" Seto refuted. He didn't realize he was already on his feet, until he was made to sit down. His face fell, and his father's words finally sunk in. His gaze dropped and he felt lonely all of a sudden, like he was hollowing inside. His father approached him, asking him to meet his eyes and Seto followed. He didn't want to.

"Of course you can make him happy. You already have. That's why he spends all the time he can spare with you. That's why you're his best friend," his father explained. "But no matter how great you are, Seto, you can't be the only friend he has as well. It's not because you're 'not enough'. He simply needs other people. You do, too."

The first thing that popped into Seto's mind was a resounding 'never'. Not likely, he wanted to say. But his dad was talking sense to him, and since he was always treated as an adult under this household, he would at least respect his father's efforts and think about what he was saying.

"Was I wrong, Dad?" He asked a little while later.

"For respecting his silence? I don't think so. Everyone deserves to have some secrets of their own, don't you think? I'm glad you did the right thing. I'm proud that you were able to handle this for so long," was the reply. "Whatever those secrets are, they must be so important to him that he isn't ready to tell you yet."

That didn't make sense. Seto told Yami everything, from the things that he liked and hated to those that would leave him mortified and red-faced had other people known. Even at his own expense, and at Yami's amusement, Seto still told him. That's how best friends were, right? Spending time together, sharing everything together... certainly that was how best friends acted.

"Bakura knows. Why does he know?" That was the fallacy, he considered. The one that wasn't logical at all. If he really were Yami's best friend, how come the one defining point of Yami's trust was given to Bakura and not him?

His father shrugged, thinking.

"The boy—Bakura, he must have gone through the same ordeal and that creates a kinship between them," he answered. "But that's not your fault, mind you. And that doesn't mean he's more important than you."

"I wish I had gone through whatever it was," Seto muttered quietly.

"Would you really want to undergo what pained your friend so much that he couldn't tell you what it is?" At Seto's silence, his father patted his cheek tenderly. He rarely did that, but Seto guessed, this was an exception. Later on, his father admonished him, "Don't say those words so carelessly, Seto. Yami wouldn't want that to happen to you, and neither would I."

Seto wanted to call it an epiphany, that brief moment when the puzzles in his head clicked and his eyes widened. He met his father's gaze as inwardly, his mind raced, piecing every tiny detail of the past days together. He remembered the first time they met Bakura; how he hated the boy at first sight because he looked better. Stronger. How in the end, it was Bakura who protected them, not him. How he could help Yami when Seto couldn't.

Oh.

"I'm jealous, aren't I, Dad? Of Bakura?"

"I can't blame you. Yami's your first friend. I'd be jealous, too, had I been in your shoes."

Being an only child was difficult in its own way. It was complicated. You wouldn't have to share with anyone, and surely that was a benefit most of the time. Ask and it was easily given. In this way, you were spoiled rotten. But it was lonely because there was no one to play with. No one to fight with and no one to protect your back when you play pranks on people in the house. No one sided with, or against you. When the adults were busy, you were sent to your room to play on your own.

Since Seto met Yami, he never felt that. Yami was a constant presence in his life that he never felt the house to be truly empty even if his mother was resting in her room and his father, in his office. Yami filled the time Seto would have spent alone, and that had made Seto happy. Even with this disagreement, Seto didn't want to lose that.

"Dad, I should apologize," he declared.

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'?"

Seto almost rolled his eyes. His dad loved to be cryptic and nonsensical sometimes.

"Well, why do you want to apologize? It has to be genuine. If you're only doing this because you're obliged, then Yami would figure out and would only get mad at you."

"I'll mean it," Seto promised.

"Good."

They sat there for a few minutes, in silence. Both were lost in their thoughts. His father, however, eventually stood up, catching his attention.

"My job here is done," his father announced. "Good night, son."

Seto's father ruffled his hair and headed for the door.

"Dad!"

"Yes, Seto?"

"Thank you."

His father nodded curtly before leaving. He didn't have to tell Seto to eat his microwave-heated dinner. He knew Seto would eat it, if only to appease his mother. But there was something he was certain he wasn't going to do tonight.

With so many things to think about, he wasn't definitely going to sleep. (Or, just in case he did, it would be quite late, he figured.)

At the sound of the alarm clock going off, Seto's eyes opened, more out of shock than awareness, as he sat up immediately. He didn't remember setting it to any time the night before, and had therefore not expected it to be so loud this morning. It was thirty minutes past six, the time he usually woke up to when there was school. His father must have been the one who set the alarm clock, Seto thought, because as of yesterday, he was determined to skip school altogether. For a moment, Seto felt a sense of indecision. He was sorely tempted to stay under the covers and sleep the morning away, but did otherwise; dressing into his uniform, instead.

Okay, maybe hiding again from Yami wasn't such a good idea, Seto conceded. Maybe deep inside, Seto also wanted to talk to Yami _today _and finally straighten things out. But that surely didn't mean he was ready to apologize and be amiable today. He was cranky, he supposed, and his head ached terribly. Sleeping several hours past midnight was a stupid idea.

Seto glanced at his room and found that everything was surprisingly in place. It was uncharacteristically tidy, in short. And Seto wanted it to be messier, like it used to. He supposed, with rehearsals and barely having time to play, and this rift between him and his best friend (which needed to be rectified, apparently), there was no reason for his room to be in disarray. Well, he could do something about that. Seto shook his head and headed down for breakfast. His father smiled at the sight of him.

"I'll be driving you to school today," his father said. Seto hmm-ed and ate silently, wondering how his morning would turn out to be.

While classes began at 7:30, Seto arrived thirty minutes before and found himself in a yet again empty classroom. They had always been the first ones to arrive, he and Yami. The desire to revere in the peacefulness of being alone with each other was something he shared with his friend. It was something they appreciated, especially after their classmates, upon piling in noisily, eventually disrupted it. It took a while for Seto to stop glancing at the door and expecting his neighbour to enter, and another for Seto to sit awkwardly in his seat, not knowing what to do. A thought, then, struck him. Did Yami only go to class this early because Seto was with him?

Seto hated feeling awkward. It made feel uncomfortable in his own skin. Deciding instead to be productive and to quite possibly shut out his thoughts about their estrangement, he pulled out one of his textbooks and began to read. After reading the same line consecutively for three times, Seto decided he was too distracted and therefore was acting like an idiot, and put down the book just in time for the door to open. Instinctively – and refusing to be seen looking so obviously alone – Seto lifted the book and pretended to read, making sure his book his face. Was it Yami?

It wasn't.

For the next few minutes, and for the next few students, the result was the same. No Yami, more noise. More chaos. Seto's irritation was spiking up and he continued to ignore everyone else. Conditioning instilled a preferred behaviour into the subject through prolonged exposure to stimuli that would trigger it, Seto read once. It worked on him, so much so that when the door opened again, he no longer discreetly glanced at it. He ignored it altogether, in fact, that when Bakura's exclamation echoed in the room, Seto's grip on the book fell and his eyes landed on the pair who just came in.

Yami's eyes widened as Seto's gaze met his. Briefly, Seto considered standing and approaching him, demanding a conversation away from prying albeit equally surprised eyes. Bakura loomed just behind Yami, however, glaring at him and standing by in a protective manner that had Seto's eyes narrowing. He guessed he didn't do well with being threatened, and rolling his eyes, he went back to his book. If he could ignore the rest of the class, he could easily ignore two individuals for a moment.

Couldn't he?

He guessed he could talk to Yami some other time. Maybe, Seto thought, he could do it when he wasn't feeling particularly keen on retreating. He had every intention of ignoring Yami. He did! That was why he tried his utmost best to go back to his book and feign disinterest. But his senses were suddenly heightened at Yami's and Bakura's entrance that somehow every noise was amplified and Seto kept feeling eyes on him. He sat straighter, hoping to project a look of boredom and refusing to notice the observant gaze Yami was throwing his way. There were a couple of minutes left before Homeroom. All Seto needed to do was wait. Have some patience and hang in there, he told himself.

"Seto?"

No, it didn't work. As much as Seto wanted to pretend he didn't hear his name, Seto couldn't help but look up, Yami's voice forcibly breaking through the hazy barricade in his mind that Seto protected himself with. Yami was surprisingly and uncharacteristically fidgeting. He was hesitant; subdued in the way he ignored their classmates' stares and flinch at Seto's own. Seto had never seen Yami act this way before. His friend had always been composed, especially when they were in public places. It was Yami's insistence to separate the place he was most comfortable with and the place that he wasn't. It was similar to being a guest at someone's house and being at your best, albeit stiff and uncomfortable, behaviour. This time, Seto realized, Yami looked strangely vulnerable and out of his zone. It was strange.

"Yeah?" Seto rasped as the new thought made him gather his wits and respond to the situation quickly.

However, whatever moment they were spared with was shattered when the door opened. Immediately, Yami shot him a pleading look; it seemed almost hopeless, but that couldn't be. Yami'd never look helpless. It was against nature or something. Whatever it was, asked Seto for another chance to talk. Yami apparently knew that he was planning to hide as soon as morning classes were done. What Yami didn't know was that Seto didn't know what to say anyway. Yet even if Seto wanted to shoot down Yami's request, he found that he simply couldn't. He wouldn't cope with the guilt well, and the naked hurt Yami's face was sure to express would exacerbate it. God forbid, Yami's been denied enough times already. Seto, in good faith, refused to add to that. Besides this was the chance for them to clear things up.

Seto would regret it if he didn't agree. He met Yami's eyes and nodded, watching the relief flicker on Yami's face.

"Mr. Mutou, sit down," the Homeroom teacher said, eying them both. Bakura snickered to Seto's left and Yami sheepishly grinned at Seto. It wasn't the carefree grin Seto used to see, but it was pleasing nonetheless. It made Seto feel tad better.

This, he considered, was a modest start and Seto couldn't ask for more.

Seto was tired. It was ridiculous. He rubbed his eyes, crossed at the heat of the afternoon sun, as he hid from it under the bleachers. Save for the two nine-year olds who were arguing nearby, the area was relatively empty. Of course. Since it was just a couple of minutes pass noon, everybody else was still inside the cafeteria eating lunch, or relishing the shade the trees by the playground provided. Seto liked to think that he preferred it this way. It was less chaotic. And with lesser people, it was definitely quieter. Seto appreciated silence. It was one of those things that schoolchildren fail to see as significant. But the silence was no help, he found as he yawned and leaned back, waiting still for Yami to arrive. Yami was late. Must have gotten caught up with something, Seto theorized. Maybe Bakura got him into trouble, he even thought, darkly.

But how ever manner he intended to progress with such accusation was stopped when a shadow fell on him and he looked up. Yami took a step back as he rose. That was different. Yami always offered a hand. Seto shrugged. Things were different now, he supposed.

"Hi," Yami feebly greeted. He hid his anxiety with a small smile, one that bordered shy and alien on the normally open and assertive face. Seto honestly could not explain this drastic change.

"Hello," he greeted back. "Are you... are you okay?"

Yami's eyebrows crossed and he tilted his head in confusion.

"What?"

"You're shy," Seto pointed out, "You're never shy with me! What's wrong?"

It never crossed Seto's mind that maybe they should go right down to business, and discuss what happened. This was simply how things ought to go, after all. If something was bothering Yami, Seto, acting on instinct, wanted to know what it was. It's what he's gotten used to over time and as such it was not that easy to shrug off. No matter how angry he was at Yami. On the other hand, this was Yami. The one who didn't tell him for such a long time what was bothering him, and yet allowed Bakura to know about it. At one point, Seto considered it was justified for him to be angry and not care about why Yami was acting strangely.

"Nothing's wrong," Yami defended before sighing and looking down. "You're still mad at me."

Seto stopped. Yes, he was. Wasn't he? He guessed before he and Yami could talk about him being jealous, they had to clarify the issue he had with Bakura first.

"Where's Bakura?" He asked, out of plain curiosity. Yami shook his head.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since he was called to the Principal's office an hour ago," Yami answered.

At the back of his mind, Seto said, good. But at the same time, he knew that there were unresolved things between him and Yami. No matter how vindictive Seto felt, it wasn't going to help him at all.

"'You trust him," Seto said, referring to the white-haired student who's been the bane of his existence lately. (Maybe that was too much. Bakura, however, still got to Seto's nerves, no matter what.)

"Not completely, Seto."

"Fine. But enough for him to know what happened to you. That's not fair, Yami."

"I'm sorry."

"That's it?"

"What do you want me to do, Seto? It's not like I can tell you everything!"

Seto flinched.

"Why not? You tell him things that matter. We've been friends longer. Don't I merit the same amount of trust, at least?"

"That's not the point!"

"Well, what is?"

"It's not like I told him," Yami said.

"You're deflecting. What's the point, Yami?" Seto answered, exasperated. He understood that whatever it was that Yami was hiding, was probably humiliating enough. His dad had helped him realize that. It would probably be uncomfortable to tell, even. However, he'd told Yami several times already. He wasn't going to judge. He wasn't even going to let it affect their friendship—and Seto truly did not know long he could further take to prove he was worthy of this... whatever it was. He watched Yami, who looked away, torn between giving in to Seto's demand and keeping his silence. It irritated him for some reason, and he stood up.

"Fine. If you don't want to tell me, then don't," he muttered. He started to walk away, intending to go to rehearsals. There wasn't any point in skipping rehearsals, when there was nothing worthy enough a reason to give, right? It was clear that Yami wasn't going to tell him anything, after all.

"Seto!" Yami exclaimed. "I'm sorry. Will you listen?"

Yami's hand shot to Seto's arm, and turned him around. Seto found traces of indecision there, but mostly panic. As if Seto walking out now would warrant never having to see him again, and that must have terrified Yami to a certain level.

"I've always been willing to listen! That's the point. You never tell me anything-"

"Yes, I do, Seto."

"No. Not when it counts."

Yami crossed his arms defensively. He was getting mad as well, Seto figured.

"Those things I tell you? Don't they matter? The fact that I'd do everything for Yugi? That I'm scared of being judged by you? You're telling me they don't matter at all?"

Well, when Yami said it that way...

"I—"

"I can't," Yami exhaled and met his gaze, still looking annoyed and equally tired. Seto knew how that feels. "I can't divulge everything in an instant, Seto. I'm not like that. It takes me time because I'm uncomfortable of what I've done in the past. I wasn't going to not tell you. Just, I wasn't planning on telling you now."

"So why does Bakura know?"

"He guessed!" Yami said, "It takes one to know one, Seto. You've no idea what I've done."

Seto sighed. He wanted to know more. He wanted to listen to what Yami wanted to say. Heck, he could even ignore Bakura just so he and Yami would be friends again. He was jealous. And he was in the wrong, too.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Flabbergasted, Yami stared. He had wanted to say something; that was clear until Seto beat him to it.

"I want to listen," Seto explained. "To... whatever you want to say."

"Are we friends again?" Yami asked, looking like he was considering Seto's statement.

Seto knew that maybe he shouldn't get over this so easily. It's not like he was getting anything in return, as of the moment, anyway. A part of him refused to forgive Yami. He knew that side of him, and he ignored it. This was Yami. He couldn't bear not forgiving Yami, when they could be back to how they were before. Seto didn't want, even, to consider the thought of rejecting his friend anymore. He wanted this to be over, preferably with him being happy about it and not mulish and sad about it (like last night). So Seto nodded. Yami smiled, then; one that was bigger than the peculiar shy smiles Seto's been receiving today. No, this was relief and joy blending together to form that quirk of Yami's lips that Seto missed seeing. Yami moved to wrap his arms around him, and Seto stilled, receiving the embrace. He wanted to think that this was Yami telling him that he's been missed. That the tiff didn't just affect Seto. And for that, Seto smiled to himself, feeling marginally better because he may not have gotten the answers that he wanted, but he had Yami. It was fair enough. He hugged Yami back.

"Meet you after your rehearsals?" Yami asked after a while. Seto shook his head and hastened to explain.

"I'm skipping rehearsals," he said.

"Is that... wouldn't your teacher mind?"

"I've practised enough. One more day wouldn't hurt, I guess? Besides, don't you have errands or something?"

Yami dismissed the concern with a chuckle.

"Bakura can handle that,'" Yami met his eyes and hastened to add, remembering Seto's dislike for Bakura, "He helps me. He was looking for something to do that would pay so..."

"So you gave him a job," Seto continued, following Yami's logic. "Is that even legal?"

Yami shrugged.

"That's why he's become a tolerated nuisance," Yami explained. "He needs the job, so I gave him one. Besides, since he's there, I don't have to be on-call all the time."

"Oh."

Yami laughed, the way he often does when Seto was out of words.

"Are we okay?" He asked some time later.

Seto nodded.

"You promise to tell me whatever your secret is?"

"Not now."

Seto fought the urge to be disappointed. And to his relief, he won.

"Okay. I understand. You'll tell me eventually, though, right?"

If he sounded hopeful, neither he nor Yami made any notice of it.

"After your recital," Yami suggested before hesitating, "Is that okay?"

Seto nodded.

Yami smiled, then, and Seto returned it with one of his own as they both leaned on one of the posts and shoulder to shoulder whiled the time away.

They were going to take baby steps, Seto considered. Besides, that was just four days from now anyway.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6 of 6

**A/N: Hello, guys. This is the end of the first book. I've decided to separate the books into different stories so it's easier for me as well. It's a bit shorter than the others in terms of words, I think. Not that it matters. Anyway, I know, it's been a terribly late update but I've made sure that this really does justice to the story I've had going so I hope you appreciate it. I'm returning in a few weeks, hopefully with a chapter to begin the 2nd book. Till then, enjoy reading! Do review afterwards so I know what you think, okay? Thanks! **

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**Chapter 6**

**Silence**

Seto Kaiba knew one thing for certain: Bakura was a problem of the world.

He knew one more thing—that there were things you could do... and there were things you couldn't. Granted, Bakura was an insufferable idiot, Seto knew pretending the boy didn't exist was _not _as impossible as other people were inclined to think. When he thought about it, there were two ways to go about his problem. He could continue to get riled up every time the albino opened his mouth, or he could choose to ignore him and be at peace. The latter seemed more productive to Seto. Of course, pretending Bakura didn't exist was difficult—it was a Herculean task—that sometimes Seto questioned why he even bothered.

Sometimes, Seto guessed he never truly got over his ridiculous jealousy over Bakura's unlikely friendship with Yami. On the other hand, he'd always had a low tolerance for Bakura's kind. So, Seto thought, maybe he's mildly (teensie bit, most likely) jealous _and _greatly (extremely so) intolerant of the boy.

Whatever it was that he felt towards his white-haired classmate, it has doubled by now.

Bakura was laughing, and the sound was grating to Seto's ears. The idiot apparently was having fun irritating their Values Ed teacher, chuckling madly as the rest of the class stared in absolute horror. (In the heads of these people, confronting the morals of a teacher who thought badly of unconventional individuals was unthinkable. Seto snorted. Ignorant idiots.) Seto glanced at Yami, feeling envious at the serenity Yami wrapped himself in. He was in a bubble, reading a book and shutting out everyone else. It was very convenient.

Seto sighed. He didn't understand how school life easily became this chaotic.

"Detention, Bakura!" The red-faced teacher exclaimed. She was breathing hard, from the looks of it, and to her credit, was trying not to get mad. Now, _that's _impossible. She's already snapped in two the long chalk she was using, and Bakura—the moron—was still laughing.

"Oh? So we're on first-name basis now, teach? What are we going to do in detention? What sort of 'games' are we going to play, huh? Acting fast now, are you? You didn't even let me ask you out on a date!" Bakura waggled his eyebrows and grinned lewdly. At the teacher's heightened embarrassment-slash-mortification, he guffawed and the class sunk lower in their seats. Seto couldn't take it anymore.

"Bakura, shut the hell up!"

Seto stood up and grabbed the shock-to-silence boy. All eyes were on him, he could feel it, as he dragged Bakura back to his seat. Calmly, Seto went back to his own and at the gaping of everyone else, raised an eyebrow expectantly. Seriously, people.

"Well?" He eyed the teacher, who was looking at him with wide, uncomprehending eyes. Bakura wasn't the only one shocked to silence, he observed. "Aren't you going to continue boring us? Snap, snap, we don't have all day. Clearly, no idiot's going to stop you now."

When Seto pulled up the book that he was reading, it was like someone snapped his fingers and broke the spell on the dumbstruck class. Within seconds, everything went back to normal and Seto sighed at the peace and quiet (well, figuratively). The teacher turned back to the board and the class either pretended to listen or dozed off. Bakura was glaring at him and he rolled his eyes, focusing on Yami instead when the other boy tapped his shoulder. Yami was grinning widely. His eyes were literally bright with amusement, and when Seto briefly looked away, Yami threw him a folded-up piece of paper.

Seto grinned and upon opening, he read:

_That was incredible. So like you to do that. Did I say that was awesome? :-)_

_(P.S. You can go back to reading now. Things are about to get dull and boring.) _

If Seto was in a lighter mood, nobody but Yami noticed it. And he wanted it to stay that way. As the teacher several minutes later gave the reading assignment, Seto mentally counted off time. Two days down. He meant two days until the recital, of course. He glanced at Yami and thought, two days to go.

At the reminder of what Yami was going to tell him after the recital, Seto smiled into his notebook.

He couldn't wait.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Seto's mother had a heart condition. The doctors had said her heart was too weak to be subject to strain and strong emotions. When Seto learned about this, he had been seven years old; and too young to know that people you love can't always be as fit and active as you are. He had watched helplessly as his mother dropped the tray of cookies and collapsed in front of him. His father thankfully had just come home then, and caught her in time—brought her to the hospital in time. He remembered watching his father pacing restlessly outside the ER, only ever stopping at the unspoken query in Seto's innocent, blue eyes. At that time, a simple "Your mother's sick" wouldn't cut it. Seto would see through it, and his father knew that. Seto guessed that was when his father decided to tell him the adult version of it.

But the point was, since then, things were different—from the way his father treated him to the way he watched his mother. He's learned to read his mother's body language; to look for the tell-tale signs of the heart condition returning.

So, he really should have been more observant this time around.

It was the eve of his recital and Seto was naturally agitated. His mother kept to himself, smiling serenely but emptily. She hid them well, the fragility her body felt; the signs. The fatigue was obvious, though. The hollowness in her eyes was as clear as daylight. But there were more: the slight trembling of her smooth, slender hands, the difficulty in breathing. Seto assumed his father knew about these, and kept his silence in the past few days.

However, Seto was really concerned now.

"Mom, are you okay?" He asked over dinner, breaking the quiet that they've settled in.

She smiled.

"Of course, honey."

She was lying. Unconvinced, Seto peered closer. His mother was pale, but all her efforts were geared towards placating him—towards insisting that there was no reason to worry. But there _is _reason to worry, Seto thought. It was obvious in the way her shoulders dropped, in the strain she put on herself to act as 'okay' as possible.

"Mom—"

"How was school, darling?"

That was Mom-speak for 'Drop it, Seto'.

Seto sighed.

"Yami's spending the night here. That's okay, right?"

At the subtle surprise on his mother's face, Seto grinned sheepishly.

"Oh. We made up already, by the way."

"That's good, Seto."

Seto grinned at her until they heard a knock on the door. Seto glanced at the clock. Just in time!

Barely done with his food, Seto jumped nonetheless and ran. Behind him, he knew his mother eyed him fondly. She'd head to the kitchen afterwards. Yanking the door open, Seto greeted Yami with a tight hug, feeling the other boy relax in his arms as his embrace was return. All thoughts about his mother temporarily fled.

"I told my mom already," he announced, leading the way in.

"And? What'd she—"

When they heard the sound of dishes breaking all at once, all forms of conversation stopped. Seto's heart raced as he ran to his mother, Yami following close behind him. They saw her leaning limply on the counter, breathing hard and paling by the minute. Her lithe, fragile frame started to shake as cold sweat trickled down her forehead. The sight stilled Seto, who couldn't help but stare. It was too surreal – no matter how much mental preparation one undertakes, there wasn't enough to compensate when the actual thing happened. Mechanically, he watched Yami pull out a chair and make his mother sit down, giving her a glass of water when she asked for it before opening the small windows.

The air, Seto distantly realized, was cold on his face.

"Seto!"

Was his mother in trouble? Was she going to die soon? Why couldn't he do anything about that? But she can't. Die, Seto meant. Yami saw him and approached him, shaking his shoulders and calling his name repeatedly. When Seto came back to his senses, he turned to look at Yami.

"Seto," Yami softly called, not recognizing the change yet as he shook Seto's arm gently. "Call your dad, Seto."

Without knowing how he even had a phone in his hand in the first place, Seto dialled his father's office number, grimacing as his father answered the phone chirpily.

"Kaiba."

"Dad." Seto's voice was surprisingly flat; neutral. Yami met his eyes and reached out, squeezing his shoulder for reassurance. 'Go on,' Yami mouthed. "Mom needs help, Dad."

Seto heard a sharp intake of breath—his father knew the implications of the statement, apparently—before his father gave more instructions.

Several minutes later, Seto sat beside Yami as they both watched his mother rest. She looked so small under the covers of the hospital bed, he thought. Like a child, even. A small, sick child. He turned to his friend and at Yami's unspoken bid of welcome, rested his head on Yami's shoulder. His father came in that moment, hugging them both before sending them to lie down on the couch. At the back of his mind, Seto realized he wouldn't know what would happen had Yami not been there with him.

"Are you okay?" Yami whispered later.

Not really, Seto thought. His mother was in the hospital, his recital was tomorrow and he was terrified of sleeping and waking up to find that his mother had passed away. (Of course, the doctors already said she was out of danger but still!) Then again, the doctors did say she simply needed rest. That she was safe. Seto glanced at his father, who kept his gaze fixed at his mother, and he sighed. Seto was suddenly tired, his body coming down from a natural high. The adrenaline was fading, he knew.

"Seto?"

"Thank you, Yami," he replied. His voice broke as millions of thoughts danced in his head. Suddenly the realization of what happened hit him full force and his eyes widened. With his body systems starting to function normally again, the reality of how close things had been for his mother dawned on him. _It was so close._ Seto struggled with the emotions that warred inside him—the fear, the shock, the oh-so-human feeling of not wanting to be left by someone who loves you. His shoulders shook with visibly-restrained sobs, but that didn't prevent Yami from noticing it.

"It's okay, Seto. It's okay," Yami was suddenly assuring him as he silently cried. The tears were hot on his face. Hastily, he wiped them away. He shouldn't cry. It was humiliating. When Yami, however, only wrapped his arms around him and whispered, "It's okay to be afraid", he snapped. This _was _Yami, and Yami didn't care if he cried his heart out. Seto was upset. He was terrified of losing his mother, and the shock has passed. But he was with his family, and this was the few that Seto could trust enough to drop his guard on. Yami had already started rubbing circles on his back, never letting go. At one point, Seto stopped, feeling lighter and less... burdened. He glanced at Yami, who met his gaze and smiled reassuringly. "Better?"

Seto guessed that this wasn't how he imagined his Friday night to turn out to be. However, this was how life goes sometimes. Bad stuff just happens. When it does, Seto thought, you just have to adjust. So, Seto nodded at Yami's question.

"Yeah."

Yami seemed pleased with his answer and hugged him tight for extra measure, before breaking apart and inviting Seto to go out and get his father coffee.

They fell asleep an hour later, with Yami's head on Seto's shoulder and Seto's hand gripping Yami's wrist as if any second Yami could disappear if he didn't hold tight.

-o-o-o-o-o-

His mother was as pale as sheet, Seto noticed. It was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes the next morning. She was watching them, and the fond smile on her face made Seto look at what had caught her attention. Yami was a significant weight on his right side, having leaned on him sometime in his sleep. Seto was relieved, of course, because his mother waking up automatically equated to her being alright. But he dared not move, worried that any movement would wake his best friend up as well.

"Hello, mother," he whispered. The little crow's feet at the side of his mother's eyes showed as she smiled and nodded her head curtly. She wasn't strong enough to get out of bed yet.

"Good morning, Seto," she greeted. "How are you? I didn't scare you much yesterday, did I?"

Seto shook his head, dismissing the subtle reminder of last night's events. He was over it; he knew these things were bound to happen. All that mattered now was his mother sitting on the bed, awake and smiling and eventually ready to go home.

"I'm fine, mom," he whispered again, the slight movement making him hold his breath. It wasn't enough to wake Yami up, as it?

"You can breathe now, Seto. I'm awake," Yami muttered on the crook of his elbow. Seto's mother laughed as Yami pulled from Seto. His voice was hoarse and laced with sleep still. His hair was messy. But Yami's eyes were bright with pure relief as he saw Seto's mother. Seto exhaled, relaxing.

"Sorry," Seto said sheepishly.

Yami turned to him and grinned.

"It's okay. Even without you moving around, I usually wake up around this time anyway," Yami answered.

"Seto, honey, would you call your father for me? He might be in the cafeteria, getting breakfast," the voice of his mother chipped in.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The theatre was full. It was evident from the sudden influx of noisy chatter so typical of an audience that has been waiting too long. Seto exhaled anxiously. He wringed his hands in an attempt to release the nervous energy that's been gathering ever since they were gathered backstage. This was it, wasn't it? The pinnacle of everything he's done and given up for the past few weeks? His music teacher beamed at him from outside, having caught him sneaking a peek from the curtains. Would he disappoint her, he wondered. What if he commits a mistake? After all, he wasn't able to practice much yesterday, considering what happened. What if—

"Seto, stop worrying."

Seto whirled around.

"What are you doing here?"

Yami shrugged, grinning mischievously as he gestured at the unlocked door he obviously used to get in. Non-performers were normally disallowed from entering. Trust Yami to outsmart the guards. Seto snorted. Glancing at Seto's appearance, however, Yami frowned and moved to remove his tie—the one Seto painstakingly did on his own, mind you. Naturally, Seto eyed him quizzically. He would have vocally demanded an answer, but everyone was ordered to keep their voice to a barely audible level.

"You're performing. You have to be comfortable, and wearing a tie that's just going to choke you to death won't help," his best friend reasoned. Seto conceded to his point, before deciding he needed to clarify something. Provide a disclaimer, even.

"If I mess this up—"

"You're not going to mess this up."

"Why not?"

"Because you've worked hard for this and I know you're going to do your best out there. And your best is always good."

Seto quieted. Why was everyone insisting that it was alright? Didn't they see that he didn't feel like he had enough practice? Yami was unrelenting, though. He knew what Seto was thinking, and Seto had to acquiesce to his friend's point.

"For the sake of argument—"

"It's still good, Seto, because I'm already happy that you've done so much for me, okay? I swear, I'm proud of you. What you're going to do out there's just icing on the cake," Yami insisted, looking him straight in the eye as he sought to convince Seto. It was too earnest to sound patronizing, Seto thought. In the first place, Yami would _never _patronize him. As the PA signalled Seto to be ready, Seto exhaled deeply and closed his eyes, feeling Yami's arms wrap around him in a tight hug.

Yami whispered: "Break a leg. Thank you, Seto. I mean it."

Suddenly, it didn't matter what happened. All that mattered was the calm that exuberated from Yami as he watched Seto ready. What mattered was the calm belief Yami had in Seto, and Seto didn't want to think about anything else _but that_. As his teacher announced his name outside and the applause beckoned his entrance, he threw one last glance at his best friend who only grinned at him.

When the lights narrowed on him and the piano, and the theatre fell into an ambiance of complete silence, Seto flexed his fingers and played. Eventually, he forgot about his audience, losing himself in the music. What it meant for him, what it reminded him of. The notes sang to him in a way that others would interpret differently, and that was how subjective music was, he supposed. Regardless, though, at the end of his performance, when the deafening sound of applause greeted him, he stood stunned and looked for his parents' and Yami's face in the audience. They were beaming.

Seto smiled and bowed, then exited.

-o-o-o-o-o-

It was sufficient to say that both his parents were incredibly pleased by his performance that night. His mother cooked all his favourite food for dinner, and surprised him by inviting Grandpa Mutou and Yugi, who have become close to Seto as well. (Yami's mother had night shift.) His father gifted him with a laptop, claiming he deserved it when just a few weeks ago his father outright rejected the very notion of him owning one. Dinner was a pleasant event and Seto enjoyed every moment of it. But he kept sensing a feeling of subtle sadness from his best friend, and he didn't know why it was so. It had him watching Yami all night. Later that evening, when everybody had gone to bed, Seto and Yami camped out again—the first since they had the misunderstanding. His friend was surprisingly quiet, even looking observant and thoughtful. Yami stared unseeingly at the sky.

"What's wrong?" Seto asked, sitting up.

Yami shook his head. A clear indication, Seto thought, that something really _was_ wrong. Seto nudged him gently.

"Tell me, please?"

Yami averted his gaze, looking ashamed, but he barely reacted when Seto pulled him to a sitting position.

"Remember when you promised you'd never judge me?"

Seto nodded.

"That hasn't changed." At his friend's silence, Seto grew more concerned, "What's bothering you?"

It took a while for Yami to respond. Even when he spoke, it was uncharacteristically subdued. Yami met his gaze, eyes glistening with tears.

"I envy you sometimes, Seto."

When someone's about to cry in front of you, every instinct in your body moves to stop it from happening for reasons unknown. Every action is to calm the person down and reassure him about something. That was the reason why at the sight of Yami's tears, Seto hastened to quell such display of sorrow. But Yami resisted, pushing his hands away, as he wiped his own tears. His words echoed in Seto's head.

_Envy._

Seto couldn't forget the sound of Yami's voice when he said it. The way Yami's voice broke as he confessed to being envious of his best friend—as if it caused so much disgrace on his part; as if it was so horrible that it tore Yami apart with guilt.

"Yami..."

"I promised to tell you about my past, right? After your recital, I said, remember?"

Seto shook his head, wanting to eat his own words. His insistence, the same one that caused their misunderstanding, he supposed, came back to haunt him.

"You don't have to," he said, and meant it. If it pained Yami so much, he didn't want his friend to re-live it. It no longer mattered anyway. Knowing the past wasn't changing anything, so its significance in their lives is reduced. In fact, no, Seto didn't want _anything _to do with it. "I don't care about that anymore."

"I want to tell you," Yami replied. At Seto's hesitation, Yami continued, "I need to tell you so you can understand. Please?"

Seto wanted to say that he didn't need to know about the past to understand his best friend. But he nodded anyway. He supposed he wasn't one to deny Yami anything at the moment.

"Ever since I remember, money was hard to come by and Mom wasn't always working stable, safe jobs..."

Music has taught Seto a great many things. It taught him how to recognize the emotion in the piece he was playing, the context of such emotion. It was necessary to give respect to the piece, and to perform it in the way it was intended to be performed. Quite similarly, it taught Seto to recognize the subtle differences in Yami's voice. Yami wasn't looking at him, so Seto had no choice but to just listen.

There was anger, mostly as Yami recounted meeting his dad for the first time, as Yami had to meet his mother's boyfriend of the week. Sometimes, "they'd hit me for not knowing what beer they want", Yami spat. Anger, still, in the way his mother "still loved my Dad, even when he kept abandoning us". But there was also shame. Shame in what Yami's mother used to do before she found a safer offer; shame in the measures Yami himself had to take just to make sure there was food in the table. Seto found traces of fear and concern as Yami described how he doggedly pursued his then-drunk mother through dark alleys and corners, as Yami remembered how Yugi was so close to the brink of death just because Yami couldn't buy medicine. Fear as he made the mistake once of passing by the wrong neighbourhood and having male, perverted hands on him before he was able to shout for help. "The pervert managed to get away, though."

Most of the time, Seto tried to interject and make Yami stop, not necessarily because he couldn't handle it but because all the while, Yami _was _crying. Was reliving every moment in his confession, and Seto didn't want him to cry. Not over something that had no effect on the present _or _the future. But Yami always, _always _cut him off.

When Yami started talking about the move to their current residence, Seto, however, kept quiet because this had Yami smiling shyly. Yami grinned at the memory of how they met; at how annoyed he was when some blue-eyed boy with rich brown hair kept invading his personal space; at how pleased he was, secretly, that the boy never went away like all the other boys... how he never called Yami a "tri-haired freak", or pushed him around just because he was new. Yami described the happiness he felt when Seto played with Yugi when other boys their age would only consider him a nuisance; the constant serenity he felt just by having Seto beside him everywhere they go. When they fought, Yami recalled the misery that he fell into, the continuous self-doubting that even Bakura could not resolve. How, when they weren't talking, Seto appeared to be handling it perfectly well to be able to function normally while he ended up so depressed.

"I was useless," Seto clarified.

"I know that now," Yami replied before sighing. "But I envy you because you _can _be happy without me to make you happy. You're my source of happiness. We're just friends but I'm so dependent on you."

"I'm sorry, Yami."

"There's no reason to apologize. I figured, life's unfair but it's okay because at least I have you. In fact, I think I'm even lucky to have been your friend," Yami said, "It's rare to find someone who won't judge you especially with what you've been through."

"Bakura?"

"Will never understand me the way you do, I suppose," Yami shrugged. "I guess I never really clicked with him. But you make sense to me, so I relate to you better."

It took a while before Seto was able to voice out a response. When he did, he met Yami's gaze and embraced his best friend.

"For what it's worth," he started, "I may have been happy without you, but I would never have felt so grounded with a lot of things had I never met you. So, all's fair, right?"

Yami chuckled and nodded.

They ceased talking after that, not that it bothered them. They've done this so many times already, the silence they often fall into are comfortable at least and relaxing at best. There was no need to trivialize over what has been said, Seto thought, because after tonight he realized that this kind of contentment was never going to be affected by their past. Seto made Yami happy, and Yami grounded him. They were equals in that particular sense, and nothing else mattered in the world.

Sleep claimed them soon enough and it was with peaceful minds that they succumbed to it.

**END**


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